


I'll Find a Home in Your Heart (Whether You Want Me There or Not)

by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alison & Chris arent related, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Brief Smut, Chris & Peter are bros, College AU, College Roommates, College Student Stiles, Endgame Steter, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Infidelity (not Steter), Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of alcohol and weed use, Persistent Peter Hale, Peter is a Little Shit, Slow Burn, Stiles in Denial, Stiles is grumpy, Stiles-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjaejoo/pseuds/FlyAwayMeow
Summary: Stiles Stilinski just wants to go to college, meet a nice guy and maybe get his happily ever after along with his degree. What he doesn’t plan on is the introduction of a persistent new housemate that shows him that what he wants in life, might not be what he really needs and that a happily ever after can be found in an unexpected place in the form of a very unexpected person.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To recognize the return of Steter.
> 
> *This work is completed.

* * *

 

This is Stiles’ list:

 

Go to college.

Get a degree.

Meet someone special.

Get married.

Have a career.

Start a family.

Live happily ever after.

 

For as long as he can remember, this has been his life plan. Small adjustments were made as he grew older of course. College in New England because he thinks the New England falls are romantic. A degree in business because his dad refuses to pay for a liberal arts degree and well 9th-grade biology class proved to him that anything that has to do with dissecting is out. Same with the medical health club. The idea of having to puncture anyone’s skin whether with a needle or a knife is just eww...no...just no. Meet someone special. Hmm...well he has someone, but he is pretty positive they aren’t the special one he is looking for, the _let's get married and have 2.5 kids special_. That’s okay, it is only the beginning of college, he still has time. Those parts of the list will happen eventually. The one thing Stiles is certain of, everything happens for a reason and they will happen when they are meant to.

 

************

 

The end of summer is here and Providence is everything he is expecting. It is a city, but honestly, it feels more like a larger town. He really doesn't need his jeep unless he wants to actually head out of town or state. (Let’s be real, Rhode Island is so tiny he really only needs the vehicle for road trips and this is only if he doesn't want to take a bus or Amtrak.) Everything he needs is within walking distance. He lives on campus, lucky to snag one of the rooms in the freshly built Snowden Hall due to his good grades and his dad’s willingness to foot the bill for a premium living quarter. Perks to that dorm, one roommate, and a private bathroom. Yeah, thank God for such an awesome dad.

 

Life is good. Stiles is settling into the routine of college pretty well. He doesn’t have many friends yet because he is a little spastic and flaily and yeah a little shy too. He is friendly to his classmates and has found some people that are easy to talk with, but that is it. Stiles really doesn't have anyone that he hangs out with after classes except for three other students who have the exact same schedule as him even though they are all studying to be something different.

 

Stiles is realistic and honest enough to know that his lack of socializing has a lot to do with already having experienced the dorm life and living away from home in high school. For many of his classmates, this is their first real taste of freedom with no parents hovering over them and laying down rules. So parties and late night trips to the bar is the norm for most of his peers. Flitting around from one dorm room to another instead of studying is typical, but for Stiles, this part is old hat. Stiles had spent his junior and senior year of high school living at a residential high school three hours away from home in hopes the name on his transcript one day would help him get some scholarships to help pay for college. He would go home for some weekends, holidays and the summer, but otherwise, his time was spent mostly away from his dad. So he has already experienced the highs and lows of living away from home and learned his lessons. Besides he is here to study and maybe meet his future Mr. or Mrs. Right (which is not going to be on the college party circuit thank you very much.)

 

************

 

Stiles starts his first year of college as a taken man. He is in a fairly serious relationship with someone from back home for the past eighteen months, but reality is starting to creep up on him and he knows he needs to stop ignoring the truth. The problem is that Stiles is sure Heather is not the one. Signs all point toward this reality during their last year of school with Stiles’ adamant refusal to even consider going to the same college as Heather. The problem is, Heather has fallen in love and well Stiles hasn't. Stiles thinks that 18 is too young to be in love. Seriously, how can a high schooler think they know what love is? So Stiles never says those words even though Heather does. Eventually, his conscience gets the better of him and he knows that it is time to let Heather go, even if he knows it will break the girl’s heart. So Stiles' second month of college begins with a sad whimper of a regretful goodbye over 1,500 miles of phone line.

 

************

 

As the end of summer fades into the beginning of fall, Stiles gets a job at the local mall. A little extra spending money is always good and he gets bonus points with his dad by showing that he is willing to bear some extra responsibility. With the extra money comes the added reality that maybe living outside of the dorms will be a better choice. His roommate is a little crazy and it’s not like the other guy will be upset if he leaves. Hell, he will probably be thrilled to have the room to himself for when his boyfriend visits from Boston. So with this in mind, Stiles talks to his dad about moving out and renting a place of his own. Now all he needs to do is find a couple of roommates to split the cost of rent.

 

The answer comes to him at a bus stop one evening while waiting with his new friend Allison. Allison and one of her roommates, Lydia, live in the dorms at the edge of the city furthest away from the business campus. It turns out that Allison and Lydia aren't too fond of their overly small dorm room or their own two crazy roommates and have been on the hunt for both a place to live off campus and two more people to share the financial burden with. An older friend of Allison’s is in their senior year of school and is about to do an internship out of state. The problem is that the apartment needs someone to take over the entire lease, so the place is offered to Allison and Lydia. Since Allison and Lydia already know each other, they think it is only fair for their new soon to be roomie have his own friend added to the bunch. Enter Scott, a really nice guy who lives on the culinary campus and is desperate to escape all the late night partying of his entire dorm hall. An added bonus is that Allison has met him a couple of times before and likes the guy and Lydia trusts Allison’s instincts, so in everyone’s mind it is all good to go.

 

Fast forward several months to the next season. Winter in New England is a bitch. Huddling on the blue velvet couch kindly left behind by the previous residents, reality is kicking their asses big time. Thick plastic covers the windows along with blankets they have tacked up. They have come to the realization pretty quickly that heating can only do so much in an old Victorian house with shitty insulation. On good days Stiles likes to joke with his roommates that there is nothing better than sitting on the couch and watching each other's hair gently blow in the breeze past their faces from the drafts seeping through the cracks around the window frames. On bad days, he likes to huddle under a mountain of blankets (one even being electric) and cursing the day he ever listened to Allison’s brilliant idea of being roommates in this shitty ass apartment, large living space be damn. As the winter wears on, Stiles proves to be really fluent in cursing Allison.

 

Eventually, the snowstorms let up and with the gradual warming of the weather there comes a gradual thawing of Stiles's heart towards Allison. Winter fades into spring and spring back into summer. Happy grins start adorning Stiles' face instead of the usual dirty looks when Allison enters a room now.

 

One year is in the past now and it is inevitable that there will be new housemates moving in. The first meeting comes on a hot June day with Allison and Stiles parking behind a large moving truck in front of the house being unloaded by two well-built guys. The strangers peer over at the new arrivals and give big grins and waves. Allison and Stiles politely smile back and tentatively return their waves from the inside of the car. Maybe this won’t be so bad they muse together.

 

************

 

After running inside to grab some things and leaving again to run errands, Allison and Stiles return home desperate to try and find relief from the oppressive heat and humidity. If they thought winters were bad in New England, they are quickly becoming acquainted with just how awful summers can be, especially if one happens to live in a house with no air conditioning like they do. Too hot to stay in their rooms, the two roommates are going back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, trying to catch a cross breeze of some sort. A sound of voices walking by their living room windows has them peering outside at their new housemates as they stroll by.

 

“Well, uh…they seem...nice,” Allison says skeptically as she eyes the two disheveled guys from behind. “Maybe you can get to know them,” Allison snickers with a wink as she elbows Stiles in the side. "I mean they look kind of cute."

 

Stiles side eyes his roommate with a look of disbelief. “Yeah no, no thanks. There’s nothing about an ugly ass blue Hawaiian shirt, basketball shorts, untied tatty sneakers and a wicked fro that screams attraction. Granted it's gross out and they've been moving, but who changes into that afterward. I'll definitely pass. We’ll leave them to Lydia or Scott.”

 

The two roommates just stare at each other a moment before cracking up, both imagining their other two roommates reactions to these new neighbors.

 

The sudden ringing of the doorbell and a loud rapping of knuckles against the door startles the two of them, causing an abrupt halt in their laughter. Exchanging a quick look with Stiles, Allison walks to the door with a chuckle only to look outside in confusion to an empty porch.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“Uh...No one’s here, but you should come check this out.”

 

“What?”

 

“Just come here Stiles,” Allison calls back with a weird laugh.

 

Stiles approaches his roommate and peers onto the porch.

 

“What am I looking at?” he asks in confusion, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

 

“Eh, keep looking. Nope other direction. Little further. There you go,” she directs him.

 

“What the fuck is this shit?!”

 

Stiles can only gape in disbelief at what now occupies the corner of their porch stoop.

 

“Apparently a welcoming present from our neighbors,” Allison suggests skeptically.

 

“Oh, hell no!” Stiles snaps, already offended at who he's going to be sharing the house with now.

 

In the corner sitting on an old faded blue dining room chair next to their front door is a dusty tattered brown bear with a red velvet bow tie and a 40 oz bottle of beer between his legs. The two roommates just stare at the sight, one in bemusement and the other in horror. In silent agreement, they slowly inch backward into the house and quietly close the door before Allison turns the lock.

 

“Err...Right. So...Hmm...I don’t know what to think,” Allison mumbled, blinking her eyes rapidly in confusion before rubbing the side of her face and sighing.

 

Stiles just stares at her before spinning on his heel and stomping his way back into their living room. “Oh hell no,” he mutters under his breath. “Bunch of smart asses.”

 

“Well they seem nice,” Allison calls out from behind him with a weak laugh. “Right…” She stops and just scratches her head, not knowing what else to do. “Right…”

 

To say that Stiles is unimpressed with their new housemates is an extreme understatement. It turns out that the new people living on the top floor just happen to be friends with the ones moving in on the second floor. Neither group had known the other is living there until everyone had moved in at the start of summer before parting ways again for their respective jobs back home. To say both groups were ecstatic about the potential of their senior year is an understatement.

 

************

 

Stiles grits his teeth as he feels his bed vibrates again to the base of a song blaring from the room above him. Fists clenching tight into his covers and eyes screwed shut he tries to pretend that his knick knacks and photo frames rattling on the shelf aren’t in severe danger of falling to an untimely death within the next several seconds.

 

 _That’s it!_ Stiles fumes as he throws his covers back and hops out of bed searching blindly in the dark for his green lizard bedroom slippers. It is 2 a.m. in the morning and he has a 8 a.m. shift at Hot Topic in the morning. At the rate the party is going on upstairs, he isn’t going to be getting any sleep until the following afternoon after his shift. _If I’m so lucky_ , he snarls silently.

 

Storming outside and over to his neighbor's door, he grasps the knob, happy to find the door unlocked. Stomping upstairs to the second floor he pounds on the door with his fist. The door swings open and his eyes are met with the sight of a happily intoxicated man with impressive eyebrows and a silly grin on his face sitting in the middle of the empty room on a dining room chair with a girl on his lap. “Hi,” he says brightly with a giggle and a wave of his beer bottle. “Come on in, do you want a beer?”

 

Stiles gawks at the guy.

 

“Hey! It’s our neighbor! Hi, neighbor! Do you want a beer? Come on in and join us. Relax a little!” Another voice from the right side of the room calls out. When Stiles looks, it's to find ugly Hawaiian print shirt guy waving a bottle of beer drunkenly from between two giggly girls draped on either side of him.

 

Stiles stares at him, hardcore judging taking place. He takes a deep breath and watches the guy hold his beer up with a smirking salute before taking another swig of it. The guy flashes a sly smirk and a wink before cocking an eyebrow, waiting for Stiles response.

 

Incensed at the guy's blatant mockery, Stiles snarls back a loud, “No, I do not want a beer, thank you very much! I would like some sleep. You see, I have work at 8 a.m. and your party is right above my bed. I would like it very much if you would tone it down a bit so my room will stop shaking and my things won’t fall off my shelves!”

 

Stiles is pretty sure his face is red since it feels hot, and hell even his ears are feeling a little toasty at the moment. He can care less though about what he looks like though, to anger fueled at having to even bother wasting his time dealing with these people. He’s sporting an old Avengers t-shirt and athletic shorts with his trusty lizard slippers rounding out his attire. There’s no saving his appearance so why bother he thinks.

 

“Oh…” Stiles' head snaps back around to the guy in the chair who smiles back weakly. “Sorry about that, we’ll tone it down a little. We’re sorry, we didn’t know anyone is living downstairs right now. We’re only here for the week before heading back home for the rest of the summer. We thought it was the same for you too.”

 

Stiles stares hard, eyes trying to convey his ultimate displeasure of the situation to the guy before taking a deep breath to reply. “That’s fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “Obviously we’re still here, though,” he continues with a gesture at his own body. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going back to bed.” With a quick nod and a ferocious scowl, not waiting for a response, Stiles spins on his heel and stomps back downstairs, all the while grumbling under his breath about idiot housemates who have shit for brains and no consideration for others. “No one downstairs. Ha! How does that explain the cars parked in our parking lot every freaking day,” he snarls under his breath in fury as his left eye begins to twitch.

 

“What a bunch of morons,” he hisses as he slams his front door and locks it before stomping back to his bed. With a huff he slips off the lizards and climbs back into bed, noting how the music has decreased exponentially and no further loud noises can be heard from above. With a smug smile to himself and a little body wiggle to get more comfortable, he drifts off to dreamland content that he is the ultimate victor.

 

************

 

It’s late July and the weather is sweltering. Dressed in a too big baggy t-shirt and a pair of yellow boxers with anchors that Heather had once gifted him, Stiles opts to stay at home instead of heading out to catch the 4th of July fireworks. Scott is still back home in New York until next month, so Stiles is happily sprawling across his bed in the dark watching Allison's DVD boxed set copy of Jane Austin's Pride & Prejudice ( _the British version with Colin Firth!_ ). This is it, the boy internally squeals, leaning forward in excitement to watch his favorite part when Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth.

 

Suddenly, there's a thumping noise coming from somewhere and it's increasing in volume.

 

“What the fuck?!? That's not part of the movie is it?” he whispers in bewilderment at the random noise. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Stiles leans over and turns down the volume, holding his breath to see if he can hear the sounds again.

 

The sound is repeated only this time it's accompanied by the vibrating rattle of the walls.

 

"Jesus Boyd, fuck! Right there, baby. Harder! Dammit, I fucking said harder! _OhGodohGodohGod!_ I'm coming! I'm coming!!!”

 

Sitting in the dark, Stiles gives a soft whimper staring blankly at the frozen screen where Elizabeth Bennet is about to read Mr. Darcy the riot act. Before his eyes, he sees his perfect sophomore year going up in a fireball explosion of drunken parties and sex-fueled screaming.

 

************

 

Three hours later Allison finds Stiles staring vacantly from his seat on the living room sofa.

 

"Aww... That's one of my favorite movies too. Ooh, look at you staying in to watch this," Allison croons teasingly to her roommate. "Hey Stiles, are you okay?" Allison waves her hand in front of Stiles's unresponsive face, the concern now lacing her voice. Stiles slowly looks up with a blank look in his eyes. He stares at Allison a moment before wetting his lips with his tongue.

 

“So...,” he says slowly while tapping his fingertips together in his lap, hunching over a little as he remembers his evening. “I met the new neighbors upstairs?” He tilts his head a little to the side, like a puppy who is confused over something.

 

“Oh, you met them? What are they like? Anyone, we know? Are they cute? What are their names?” Allison asks with enthusiasm.

 

Stiles hesitates a moment before replying, thinking about how he’s going to phrase tonight's experience.

 

“Well I didn’t meet them per say, like face to face,” he says with a little cough.

 

Allison’s smile kind of fades into an odd half frozen look of confusion at her roommate's vague reply and odd facial expressions. There is a series of looks flitting across Stiles’ face like it can’t decide on what it wants to do.

 

Stiles looks at her and takes a deep breath. “Well one is a guy named Boyd and the other one is a female who um, well, is a definite screamer who apparently likes it really hard...” His voice fades away at the end. Stiles clears his throat, looking away before peering back up at Allison wide-eyed.

 

Allison looks at him with her brow furrowing in confusion as she tries to process what he has just said. Stiles stares at her waiting to see if she gets it, mentally urging her to understand so that he doesn't have to think about it anymore.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“Yeah, umm...so...you and Scott have fun with that.” Stiles flaps his hand vaguely in her direction before standing up and handing Allison her DVDs back. “Pride & Prejudice has forever been ruined for me,” he mutters under his breath. He hunches his shoulders in horrified remembrance before hastily walking into his own _thankfully quiet_ room.

 

Allison looks after her roommate in bewilderment unsure if she heard Stiles correctly. “I’m sorry, what? What do you mean the other one’s a screamer? Does that mean what I think it means? Oh God! Stiles! Stiles! Stiles! Stop walking away from me! Stiles!!! Answer me dammit!!!”

 

************

 

It’s been two weeks since the screaming incident of which Stiles does not think about and Stiles is back in Scott’s room again. It’s cooler in this part of the house for some reason so he’s going to take his chances that no more sexual activities will occur that he may inadvertently overhear. So far neither he nor Allison have actually met the other two new neighbors. Apparently, everyone’s schedules are just enough off sync that they never run into one another coming or going into the apartments. Honestly, Stiles is a-okay with this twist of fate and he’s keeping his fingers crossed that it will continue throughout the school year.

 

As Stiles is settling down to start another movie to watch, the deep tone of their incredibly loud doorbell echos through the apartment. Stiles sits in the dark and contemplates answering the door. He’s sweaty and gross, his face needs to be washed and he’s back in another faded t-shirt and boxer combo. Sighing he stands up and shuffles out of the room, scrubbing his hands roughly through his hair and creating his best approximation of a hedgehog. Maybe if I walk slow enough they’ll go away, he thinks grumpily. As if to mock him, someone knocks hard repeatedly on the door. Stiles yells out an sharp, “Coming!” He quickly unlocks the door and throws it open in irritation. “Yes,” he snaps out before actually looking at who is there. Well fuck, he thinks as he stares at the very _holy shit attractive_ person standing before him.

 

“Oh, hi. Sorry about that,” the guy says sheepishly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocking back on his heels in embarrassment. “Is...Uh...Allison here?”

 

Stiles just stares back for a moment before blinking dazedly and saying awkwardly, “Yeah, no, sorry, I’m not sure where she’s at tonight. Maybe at work?” He fidgets for a moment before shrugging, the stretched out neck of his t-shirt slipping down his right shoulder a bit from all the movement.

 

“Oh,” the cute guy says, eyes following the action of Stiles’ shirt before bouncing back to look Stiles in the eyes. “I actually work with Allison at the Westin and I just left a little while ago. She told me to give her a call so we could meet up, but she wasn’t answering. I figured I would just come over and see if she was home.” The man smiles timidly, eyebrows raised in hopefulness.

 

Stiles awkwardly runs a hand through his hair before responding. “Right. Well Allison’s definitely not here. I haven’t seen her since she left for work this afternoon. Do you want me to let her know that you stopped by?”

 

The guy’s face falls in disappointment. “Uh, yeah, sure that would be great. My name’s Parrish. Thanks.”

 

“Sure Parrish, no problem. I’ll let Allison know and um, yeah, have a good night.”

 

The two guys continue to stand there awkwardly, staring at one another in silence, neither making a move to leave.

 

“Oh, right, thanks again, good night,” Parrish mumbles sheepishly, ears turning a little pink. Parrish clears his throat and stares at Stiles another several seconds before turning around and walking down the stairs, throwing a quick peek back over his shoulder at Allison’s odd roommate.

 

Stiles flails a hand in return, face flushing in embarrassment when he accidentally whacks the door frame. Mortified he tries to make up for it by blurting out goodbye again, but his voice cracks like he is going through puberty and he ends up strangling out a garbled mess of words instead. Hastily he steps back into the house and shuts the door quietly and relocks it. He stands there staring at the door in disbelief at his own ineptness socializing with another human being that doesn't live with him. With a sudden groan he rubs his face and looks down at his clothes wincing when he realizes just what he is wearing.

 

“Jesus, I just can’t catch a break _,”_ he breathes out in disgust. He puts his face in his hands and strangles out a scream of frustration at his lack of _everything_. Walking back into the main part of the house he decides to torture himself further by going into the bathroom to look at his reflection in the mirror. Oily skin, wrinkled t-shirt and sweaty hair in utter disarray. Worn old t-shirt with a stretched out neck sliding down his right shoulder like he’s an extra in some 80’s dance flick.  Awesome, he thinks, fucking awesome. With a smack of the light switch he leaves the bathroom and heads back to Scott’s room to face-plant back onto the bed. With flailing arms and legs he wallows in self pity lamenting about his pathetic existence.

 

************

 

The end of August brings the return of Lydia and Scott. Both spent the summer at their respective homes working at whatever job they happened to get for the short period of time they were gone. School is starting back up in a week and all the college kids are returning to the city, including all of the new housemates upstairs.

 

“Hey, so have you met any of the new people yet,” Lydia asks, while munching on some ruffled potato chips.

 

“Well, Stiles told me about the party at the beginning of summer,” Scott says, before snagging his own handful of salty goodness.

 

“Oh yeah, party, what party?” Lydia perks up in interest.

 

“Eh, just two of the guys from upstairs threw a party on the second floor before heading home for the summer. They had their stupid subwoofer going so loud my room was literally shaking. I went upstairs and yelled at them because it was late and I had to work early the next morning,” says Stiles, with a roll of his eyes.

 

Lydia and Scott laugh together. “Sounds like they’re a lot of fun. Well, fun as long as you don’t have early classes or work the next morning,” Lydia teases.

 

“Uh, yeah, guys, remember, we always have either one of those. We all opted for early morning classes so we can work longer shifts,” Stiles reminds them ruefully.

 

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Lydia says with a grimace. “Why did we do that again?”

“Because we’re broke college students,” Scott points out helpfully.

 

“Right...We’re idiots!” they laughingly chorus together.

 

“So what do they look like?”

“Yeah Stiles, are any of them cute?” Scott asks eagerly.

 

At this moment, Allison walks out of her room. “Hey what’s going on?” she asks, before stealing some chips from Lydia.

 

“They want to know about the new neighbors living upstairs,” Stiles gestures with a laugh, before he grabs another handful of chips for himself.

 

“Oh jeez,” Allison chuckles. “Yeah, poor Stiles here has all the luck with them.”

 

“The first day that two of them were moving in, one was dressed in this really loud blue Hawaiian print shirt, wearing these nylon basketball shorts and these really old tatty sneakers and a crazy 'fro sitting on top of his head. The other one, I didn’t get a real good look until later when they threw that party, but he has these impressive eyebrows and these adorable bunny teeth when he smiles. His hair was pretty crazy too,” Stiles snorts out.

 

"Yeah they ended up ringing the bell and knocking on the door. They left this ugly ass bear on a chair by the door with a 40 oz beer bottle between its legs. Real classy, " Allison chimes in.

 

"Wait, I'm sorry did you say a bear on a chair with a beer?" Lydia repeats with a snort.

 

"Yup," Stiles said with a pop of his mouth. Beside him Allison shakes her head vigorously in agreement, all wide eyes and cheeks full of chips.

 

"Well that was generous of them to share their beer," Lydia says with a laugh.

 

"Did you save the bear," Scott asks hopefully.

 

His roommates look at him strangely.

 

"Uh...Nooo…,” Stiles says slowly. “Allison threw it out with the trash. It was dirty and ugly and who knows where the hell they found it," Stiles remarks, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

 

“Honestly, it looked like one of those cheap giant stuffed bears people win at a carnival,” Allison chimes in.

 

“Are they cute?”

 

“Uh, honestly I couldn’t tell you. I never really looked too closely at their faces other than the one guys teeth and eyebrows. I was too appalled by the horrible thing they call fashion,” Stiles snarks. “I think one of them, the eyebrow guy, might have a girlfriend. He had someone hanging all over him at the party when I spoke to him.” Stiles just gives a shrug of disinterest after this statement.

 

“Tell them about your Pride & Prejudice experience,” Allison leers at him before digging an elbow into his side snickering as Stiles flinches and yelps.

 

The other two roommates look at Stiles with identical raised eyebrows. “Pride & Prejudice experience? That sounds...special,” Lydia comments as she consumes another chip.

 

Stiles groans before going into the whole story about what happened that night. “Yeah, so the thumping I was heard during the proposal scene was the bed upstairs literally moving across the room from one wall to the other from all the sex.” He gestures wildly moving his hands from one side to the other to try and emphasize the movement of the bed. “I mean, it was my favorite part of the movie and now I’ll never be able to look at Mr. Darcy the same way again,” Stiles rants, arms waving wildly before pausing to catch his breath. “Sorry Scott,” Stiles says with a wince and a gentle pat on his friend’s shoulder as he looks at Scott’s horror stricken face. Allison is giggling madly and Lydia is snorting half chewed chips into her hands, face red from the exertion of not spraying everyone with soggy crumbs.

 

“Jesus!” Lydia gasps for air. “It sounds like Stiles has had quite the exciting summer.”

 

Stiles gives a twitch of his nose and purses his lips into a grim moue of distaste. “Well hopefully this is the extent of my fun with them.” Allison looks at him with an amused look while Lydia and Scott look doubtful. Each were thinking the same thought, knowing grumpy Stiles and his luck in life, this was only the beginning.

 

************

 

Classes start back up again and new routines form for the roommates on the first floor. Stiles takes Scott over to the culinary campus every morning for 6 a.m. classes. Apparently the school likes to follow the typical restaurant schedule of real life early morning preps. To make things easier for his roommate and to make sure he gets up in time and ready for his own day, Stiles ferries Scott to school. On days when Stiles doesn’t feel really up to it or doesn’t have a class, he just hands his keys over and mumbles not to get in an accident. The rare days when the weather is really nice and Stiles doesn’t want to fight for a parking spot downtown (or go head to head with the meter lady between classes), he walks to school with Allison after dropping Scott off. Those days always include a mandatory stop at the Dunkin' Donuts on Thayer Street. Each get their usual medium hot coffee (two sugars, extra extra whole milk please) and if they have extra money a toasted cranberry bagel (loaded with cream cheese!) before cutting across Brown University’s campus. It’s a good start to their mornings and they agree they wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

************

 

“Hey, so Liam’s dad came up with a name for us after I told him about all of our adventures on what we’ve seen since living here.”

 

“Oh yeah, what did he come up with?” Stiles inquires with an amused look, curious as to what a local has to say.

 

Allison grins big and wraps an arm around Stiles before throwing her other arm out in an arc towards the sky. “Life As Flat-landers See It! You know, since you’re from that tiny southern town and I’m from the Midwest and well the land is pretty flat.”

 

Stiles gives a snort. “Allison, I’m from the foothills of the Ozarks, we have hills. Lots and lots of hills. Actually we have more hills and curves than what can be found around here.”

 

“Eh, don’t ruin the moment, Stiles. Just go with the flow,” she retorts, tightening her grip around his shoulders. “Look, see there’s something I bet you don’t see in the Ozarks,” she says as she gestures across the road at a 6 foot plus tall well sculpted black man dressed in head to toe gold with gold colored dreadlocks, gold shades and gold lace up Doc Martins.

 

“Nope,” Stiles replies with wide eyes, a little stunned at the walking living statue sauntering down the sidewalk. “We definitely don’t have that. Or the jolly Santa looking guy wearing a baby blue t-shirt and stone khaki shorts driving a little blue matching colored scooter either.” At this point both roommates have drawn to a stop to gawk at the sight across the street.

 

“Well it is the Rhode Island School of Design, and RISD students are known to be special,” Allison muses aloud.

 

“Yeah, that explains Mr. Gold, but what about Santa?” Stiles turns his face to look Allison in the eye.

 

Stiles stares at Allison, waiting for a reply. Allison looks back with a shrug, “Guess Santa’s reindeer needed a rest.” She then gives him a sly shit eating grin before breaking out in a cackle.

 

“Wow, just wow,” Stiles deadpans, as he shrugs Allison off his shoulders. “I’m leaving now.”

 

************

 

The day has flown by fairly quickly and Stiles is slowly plodding his way up the hill toward Brown’s campus, oversize backpack stuffed to the brim, _channeling his little inner turtle_ as Allison likes to fondly call it. The late summer sun is beating down on him pretty strongly as it is only a little after 11 a.m.

 

After cutting through Brown’s quad and up Thayer Street, Stiles slowly continues to meander his way up Hope Street letting his mind wander aimlessly, not paying any real attention to what is going on around him. As he approaches his apartment, he looks up and pauses, startled as he sees someone sitting on his front porch in the old dining room chair. Stiles squints his eyes. “Is he seriously drinking a beer already? It’s not even noon, the fucking lush!” He looks around, wondering if he can slip around the back before his neighbor notices him and he’s forced to socialize. Suddenly a voice calls out a hello and Stiles turns back around with a sigh to see the guy waving at him with a sly smirk. With a small huff Stiles begrudgingly starts shuffling slowly towards the porch.

 

“Well who do we have here? I’m Peter Hale. I believe I'm your new third floor neighbor. Would you like a beer?” The attractive man stands, holding out a open beer bottle in invitation.

 

Stiles freezes, gaping at the guy smirking at him, not knowing which question he should answer first. With a little shake of his head, he looks at the guy before responding. “Hi, I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. I’ve been busy and it’s not even noon, why the hell are you drinking already?” he blurts out without thought, and okay a lot of judgement.

 

The guy just grins again not phased at Stiles’ attitude. "Hey it's college, no harm no foul. Plus, I’m done for the day with classes." He shrugs and takes another sip of his beer, eyeing Stiles over his bottle.

 

Stiles eyes the guy up and down, taking in the form fitting v-neck grey t-shirt, fitted jeans and nice leather shoes. The guy's, no Peter's, he corrects himself silently, blonde colored hair is slightly disheveled, like he's been running his hands through it and he has pretty sun kissed skin. Slightly chapped lips quirked in amusement, straight nose and sharp blue eyes make up his face. Not bad, Stiles thinks, especially when you add in the height and broad shoulders and _dear God very defined chest and yeah those are some sexy biceps too_. Top it off with that teasing sly voice and it's a pretty sweet package. Too bad the guy left a creepy ass bear on his porch and only seems to know how to offer him beer every time they meet.

 

Stiles hefts his heavy backpack up on his shoulders, a little unsure of what to do now. "Umm... Right," he says, scratching his head awkwardly before grasping at his backpack straps again. "I'm going to go inside now. It was nice meeting you." He gives a small finger wave while trying to edge his way around Peter.

 

Peter just gives a small smirk and rocks back on his heels, "Sure Stiles, I'll see you later." Stiles' feels a little curl in his stomach at the sound of his name from the other guy’s lips as he fumbles with getting his key into the door, cheeks flushing when it takes too long and cringing when the key becomes stuck halfway in the lock. Time to get out the W-D40 he thinks, internally cursing his luck that this has to happen with his audience of one still observing him.

 

Peter takes another swig of his beer and hums softly under his breath, watching with hooded eyes as his cute neighbor struggles with his lock. Instead of offering to help out, he takes another swig before stepping closer. “Need help?” he eventually asks with amusement when the key becomes stuck.

 

A quick glance over his shoulder has Stiles giving Peter a startled look when he realizes how close they now are. A hasty, “No thanks, I’ve got it, goodbye,” is his reply as his key _thankfully, about fucking time,_ cooperates. He mutters a quick, "finally," under his breath and steps inside into the cool front hall and shuts the door, wincing in embarrassment when it gets caught in a cross breeze and slams shut. Husky laughter can be heard from outside, causing a shiver to run over Stiles’s skin. Stiles lets his head fall forward with a thud against the wall. _Fuck!_

 

************

 

“So, where did the other dining room chair come from?” Allison asks as she pauses in her imitation of a dying woman in the Sahara after her daily two hour run and workout at the culinary campus gym.

 

“What chair?” Stiles asks in confusion.

 

“Seriously, Stiles, how did you not notice? The porch is right outside your bedroom window. Don’t you walk by it every day at least twice a day?”

 

“Umm...No. I use the back door,” Stiles replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

Silence descends on the kitchen. Crickets chirp from outside. Lydia coughs and clears her throat. “I’m sorry why are you using the back door all of a sudden? It’s completely on the opposite end of where you live,” she states flatly.

 

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he protests. “I’ve been driving my jeep, so I use the back door. My jeep is parked there, so therefore I naturally use the back door which is closer,” Stiles explains patiently with a shrug.

 

“Yeah about that, the weather is nice. Why have you been using your jeep so much? Usually you walk or take the bus because between paid parking and the meter maid your ass is dead broke,” Allison states with a raised eyebrow.

 

Stiles stares back at his two roommates. “What, can’t I be lazy? I just don’t feel like walking lately. Between all the noise upstairs late at night, school and work, I’m not getting much sleep so I’m staying in bed longer to try and catch up.”

 

Both Lydia and Allison wince in sympathy. The neighbors are pretty noisy. Several of them don’t have classes until late morning or even early afternoon so they are taking full advantage of their open mornings by socializing late into the night. It’s cool, except the gathering place of choice is the second floor living room, which happens to be directly over Stiles’ bedroom. Add in the subwoofer they love to turn up to full volume and you have Stiles investing in 20 packages of ear plugs, backups for his backups for his backups to ensure he doesn’t run out anytime soon just so he can try to sleep.

 

“Good point,” they both agree in unison.

 

At this moment the front door opens and they hear Scott’s cheerful call out of, “Honey I’m hooooome!!!!” echo through the house.

 

Allison snorts water and starts hacking, gasping for air. Lydia helps her out by pounding on her back while barking out, “Deep breaths woman, nobody’s dying on my watch!” Stiles just rolls his eyes at the spectacle.

 

Scott waltzes into the kitchen, bright smile on his face. “Hey guys! What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing,” Stiles replies with a sigh. “We’re just catching up on our day. How was work?”

 

“Eh, same old same old. Didn’t open any credit cards at Eddie Bauer so Missy had to have a ‘talk; with me,” he says, rolling his eyes in frustration. “Oh yeah, by the way the guys from upstairs say hi. They say they haven’t seen you in awhile Stiles. They were wondering if everything was okay.” Scott frowns in confusion before continuing, “Peter says he usually sees you when he’s sitting on the front porch after morning classes, but he hasn’t seen you all week.” Scott looks at him with concern. “He says he’ll look around the corner and there’s your jeep, but he never hears you in the house. Is everything okay?” Scott looks at him worriedly, wondering what he may have missed in his friend’s life.

 

The kitchen falls into silence again. Crickets continue to chirp outside. Fucking crickets, Stiles curses in his head, avoiding eye contact with his roommates. Allison and Lydia are looking at him and Scott still has a concerned look on his face.

 

“Stiles…,” Lydia drawls out, “are you avoiding Peter?”

 

“What? No!” Stiles protests, holding up his hands in innocence. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he sputters.

 

“Holy shit,” Allison breathes, before breaking out into a cackle. “Stiles, are you seriously driving your jeep so that you can use the back door? And are you seriously sneaking into your own house just to avoid our neighbor?”

 

Stiles looks back, squirming a little under the scrutiny of his roommates, hunching his shoulders a little when he realizes his roommates are too smart for their own good and have caught onto him.

 

“Honey, that’s just...pathetic,” is all Allison can manage before howling in laughter.

 

“Oh come on!” Stiles stomps his foot. “You don’t understand!” he snaps in frustration. “He parks himself on the front porch after class every single day with a bottle of beer and just sits there until I come home. After I go inside he always goes upstairs. It’s fucking creepy as hell! Why are you still laughing? It’s not funny. Stop laughing!”

 

“Aww...Someone has a crush on Stiles,” Lydia coos.

 

“By the way,” Allison gasps, “his name is Peter. Saying his name won’t make him appear suddenly.”

 

Stiles just looks at her as she struggles with getting enough air in her lungs between cackles of merriment.

 

“Seriously, does no one see a problem with this behavior?” Stiles demands in exasperation.

 

“Well it is kind of creepy,” Scott admits while their other two roommates clutch one another and try to muffle their laughter into each others shoulders. “On the other hand though, it’s kind of sweet.”

 

Stiles just gives him a _are you fucking kidding me_ look.

 

“What?” Scott defensively asks. “Look, here is a hottie of our neighbor who likes to sit out on our porch every day just to say hi to you. I think it’s kind of sweet. You should be nice and stop avoiding him. Maybe smile and say hi back to him. I’ve talked to him a few times and he actually is really nice. You should try and get to know him, you might find that you actually may have something in common. And yeah, maybe use his name too. That would be nice. You know, instead of calling him ‘that guy’ all the time.” Scott gives him a hopeful look.

 

Stiles sputters, “Are you serious? He sits outside with a bottle of beer at 11 in the morning. Every. Single. School. Day. He waits for me to come home and all he does is smirk at me and says, ‘Hi Stiles’ and nothing else. Doesn’t that seem a little creepy to you? I don’t know, maybe, a little stalkerish? Seriously, you think this is sweet? Need I remind you that this is one of the guys that _smoked out our apartment just last week with weed_!!! Oh my God will you please just stop laughing already,” he shrieks, flailing his arms in frustration at the situation as a whole.

 

With this exclamation, whatever control Allison and Lydia has gained falls to the wayside as they slide to the floor in a pile of giggly limbs at the memory of Stiles freaking out over their smoked filled apartment, running frantically from window to window flapping his hands and turning on fans in hopes of airing out his bedroom.

 

“Oh yeah,” Scott smiles weakly, ruffling the hair on the back of his head in memory of that ordeal. “I forgot about that. They did apologize when I told them about that. They said they would try to be more careful in the future.” He lifts his shoulders in a _what can you do_ look before sticking his hands into his front pockets.

 

Allison and Lydia shriek with more laughter. Stiles just covers his face with his hands and screams.

 

************

 

“Hey, so how are you guys doing?” a familiar voice floats through the living room.

 

Stiles freezes, his breath catches, and he stops, hands hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. What the fuck are they doing here? No no no, he silently screams as he carefully eases back into his desk chair, taking extra caution not to make any noise. Stiles contemplates sitting quietly versus sneaking over to his bed and pretending to be asleep. Choosing the latter, he carefully gets out of his chair and starts to tip-toe over to his bed, body hunched like a cartoon burglar.

 

“Hey Stiles! We have company!”

 

Shit! Fucking Allison! Stiles yells silently in his head as he hastily tiptoes back to his chair, grabbing his headphones and jamming them on his head quickly when he hears footsteps approaching his door. Body tense he opens up his music player and starts blaring some Dixie Chicks singing about a cowboy taking them away to drown out the soft knocks on his door less than two feet away. He quickly returns to his paper that he had been typing, hoping against all odds his roommate will take his non response as a hint and leave without opening his door. Fuck! No such luck. Going to kill her! Going to kiiiiillll her! he chants inside his head as he spots the edge of his accordion doors crack open. Pretending not to notice his door opening, he continues to type his literature paper like it's the most important thing in his universe.

 

“Hey Stiles,” Allison calls out softly to the back of her roommate's head, before catching sight of his earphones. A noise behind her distracts her for a moment and she looks over her shoulder to see Chris plopping down on their blue couch near Lydia and Peter walking towards Stiles’s door. “Is this Stiles’s room?” Peter asks slyly with a smile, trying to peer into the room. “Uh yeah,” Allison replies in amusement before turning back around to try and get her stubborn roommate’s attention.

“Stiles,” she calls out again, tapping him lightly on his shoulder this time, causing the younger man to flail out and twist around.

 

“What?” he barks out to Allison as he pulls his earphones down around his neck. Allison raises her hands in front of her and smiles. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Ahh...we have company over. Just thought I’d let you know, so you can come out and maybe socialize a little,” she says with a subtle twitch of her eyebrows.

 

Stiles stares at her for a moment before movement from his left catches his attention and causes him to frown.

 

Allison turns around to see what has made her roommate look this way, but she already has a pretty good idea.

 

“Hey Stiles,” Peter smirks at him, hooking his chin around the edge of door. "How are you? Are you okay from this afternoon?" he asks in concern.

 

Allison looks between the two guys, brows furrowing in confusion at this question.

 

Stiles just stares back at the guy, his left eye twitching a little. He turns back to look at Allison with a blank face, ignoring the question in his roommate's eyes. “Hi Peter, I'm fine thanks for asking,” he replies in a voice void of emotion. “I have a paper to write, go away.” He makes a shooing gesture at the two, ignoring Allison’s widening eyes that are screaming at him to _stop being a fucking asshole you douche bag!_ So to appease his roommate, he looks back over to Peter and tacts on a quiet, “please,” before turning back around in his chair and placing his earphones back onto his head, hands returning to the keyboard and pounding out one hundred words per minute of embarrassed desperation.

 

Allison gives a silent groan, resisting the urge to wrap her hands around her roommate’s scrawny little neck. With a cough she turns around to apologize to Peter, pausing when she sees that Peter has an fondly amused look on his face as he stares at the back of Stiles’ head.

 

“Ahh...sorry about that. He’s a little grumpy, this is a big paper that he has due next week and he hasn’t really had a lot of time to focus on it lately,” Allison says apologetically.

 

“Oh a big paper already? It’s still the first month,” Peter responds with raised brows.

 

“Honor society,” Allison simply replies with a weak smile.

 

“Oh, that makes sense,” Peter agrees, giving another look at the back of Stiles’ head before turning around to go and join the other people already socializing in the living room.

 

Allison peeks around the door quickly to check and see where Peter is. Spotting the other guy now on the couch she spins back around and leans down, pulling the earphones away from Stiles’ ear. Leaning close with her lips almost touching her roommate’s ear, she quietly hisses out, “You’re a fucking asshole. I don’t give a shit if you think this guy is creepy. He came downstairs with his roommate to spend some time to get to know us and you will make an effort even if it fucking kills you. If you don’t step out of your little hermit cave while they are here, I will go through and personally scratch all of your cds, including your brand new Dixie Chicks.” She gently replaces the earphone and rubs her roommate’s tense shoulder in comfort before turning around and walking back into the living room, quietly closing the door and joining in with the ongoing conversation.

 

Stiles stops typing and stares blankly at his screen, whining a little in the back of his throat knowing that Allison is right about his attitude and that Allison will also keep her promise for the destruction of his cds. With a quiet groan he rubs his hands down his face and ruffles his hair in frustration. With a huff of angry breath, he moves his cursor over to the file button and saves his work for later. Flexing his fingers he imagines Allison’s neck under his hands and then maybe Peter’s neck too. Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, he takes a deep breath and stands up to go outside. He stops when he hears Peter’s husky laugh. Stiles shakes his hands out and rolls his shoulders to ease the tension, all of a sudden nervous to step outside.

 

He’s successfully avoided Peter for the past two weeks except for earlier today when he forgot to drop his blinds, and Peter had spotted him through his window reading a book on his bed. Red flushes his cheeks at the recollection of Peter calling out a teasing, “Hey Stiles” to him as he laid sprawled on his pillows, giggling like a schoolgirl at a cute moment in the story he had been reading. His squawk of surprise at seeing Peter and the mortification of potentially being caught reading a romance novel had caused him to tumble off his bed in a flurry of limbs. Peter’s hasty, “Oh shit, Stiles are you okay?” as he ran over to the porch railing in hopes to try and see into the other guy’s room to check if he was alright had kept Stiles lying on the floor in embarrassment. He had strangled out a humiliated, “Yeah I’m okay, no worries,” through the window before face planting into his lizard slippers and biting a tail to muffle his cursing.

 

To say that Stiles has even more reason to not want to spend time with Peter tonight is a huge understatement. With another quick huff of breath and shake of his hands to pull him out of his embarrassing memory, Stiles straightens up his back, takes a deep breath and hesitantly reaches over to lightly push open his door.

 

************

 

“Wait, you read Tolkien?” Peter asks with a delighted laugh. “Like honest to God, have read the books and not just watched the movie like everyone else has at this godforsaken college?”

 

“Uh yeah,” Stiles says, giving the other guy a suspicious side eye look. “What’s so great about that?”

 

“Well not many people have actually read the books. You are literally the only person here I have met who has. Have you read all the books? What about the Hobbit?” Peter demands.

 

Stiles just blinks his big eyes at the other guy who is now leaning forward in excitement as he spews forth his questions. “Yeah, I’ve read all three and The Hobbit as well. Haven’t a lot of people?” Stiles looks around at the other people in the room who are shaking their heads at him in a definite no motion. Stiles now has a new focus for some hardcore judging, and surprisingly none have the name of Peter, he begrudgingly admits to himself.

 

“Aww…,” Chris says teasingly, “they grow up so quickly.” He brushes his finger under his right eye, pretending to wipe a tear away.

 

Allison adds on, “It’s so nice to see the nerds of the house making friends with one another.”

 

Stiles just shoots the two a dirty look and says with a sniff, “It’s not my fault you guys don’t know good literature.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter agrees enthusiastically. “How can you guys not have read the books? Tolkien is like hands down the best writer ever!”

 

Stiles nods his head in agreement, trying not to dwell on the fact that he does indeed have something in common with their pothead lush of a housemate.

 

Lydia catches his eye and smirks while Scott just beams at him like the proud mama that he is.

 

Peter smiles widely, blue eyes crinkling at the corner from finally being able to connect with the guy he has been stalking for the past month.

 

Stiles smiles weakly back at him, before lowering his eyes a little shyly.

  
It is at this moment that Stiles realizes that he does indeed have something in common with Peter.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

“Yeah I’m sorry, I’m not sure where those pumpkins came from,” Lydia says from the front door. “I’m pretty sure they aren’t ours. Hold on, let me ask my roommates.”

 

“Hey Stiles, Scott, can you come to the front door?” Lydia yells back into the house.

 

The two roommates meet up in the living room, identical looks of confusion on their faces. Stiles shrugs at Scott, having no idea what could be going on. The two head toward Lydia who is standing in the open doorway speaking to a girl.

 

“Hey what’s up? What do you need?” Stiles asks, quirking an eyebrow at the two girls.

 

“Ahh...yeah. Stiles, Scott, this is Annie our neighbor who lives in the house directly behind us,” Lydia explains.

 

“Hey Annie,” the two roommates chorus back giving small waves in greeting.

 

“Right,” Lydia continues, looking at her roommate's with a raised brow. “Do you guys have any idea where these pumpkins came from?” She gestures out towards the porch.

 

Stiles and Scott exchange looks of confusion with one another before peering outside. Sitting on the steps on their side of the porch are two carved pumpkins.

 

“Of course they're on our side,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

 

“Yeah, our two pumpkins are missing from our porch and when I was driving by just now I spotted them on your porch. Did you guys take them?” Annie asks eyeing the three with suspicion.

 

“Nope,” the three respond as one. Scott shakes his head, “I came in the back door with Stiles this afternoon, so I’m not sure when they would have shown up.”

 

“It had to have been sometime after two today. They were definitely not here when I came home,” Lydia adds helpfully.

 

“We’re sorry. It was probably one of our idiot housemates that live upstairs. This would be the type of thing they would do. When they first moved in here at the beginning of summer they left a ratty old bear on a chair with a beer just to say hello,” Stiles explains with a long-suffering sigh.

 

Annie just stares at them blankly. “They left a bear on a chair with a beer for you as a hello?”

 

The three friends nod their heads in unison: one grimly, one solemnly and the last with a look of resignation on his face. “We like to call them our special little cupcakes,” Lydia deadpans.

 

************

 

“Hey guys,” Allison calls out as she walks  into the house, “why is a girl walking away from our porch with two pumpkins in her arms?”

 

Three voices call out from three different rooms, “Upstairs!”

 

************

 

“Why do you have a pumpkin?” Lydia asks with an inquiring tilt of her head.

 

“Oh, this? It’s fall and seeing that girl with those pumpkins made me think that we needed one of our own. Liam’s dad gave me one so we can celebrate a New England fall properly,” Allison explains cheerfully while patting said pumpkin.

 

Lydia takes a sip of her water. “Better keep that inside,” she suggests cryptically.

 

Stiles wanders into the kitchen. “The top of the fridge is probably the best place,” he offers, before wandering back out.

 

Scott walks up to the fridge, pulling out some cheese. “Alright, you got a pumpkin,” he cheers, giving said pumpkin a little rub. “You probably shouldn’t tell the guys upstairs we have that,” he says helpfully before walking back out of the room.

 

Lydia walks up to a bewildered Allison, pausing to give the pumpkin in her arms a gentle pat too before heading to her room.

 

Allison stands there in bemusement. “What just happened?”

 

************

 

Stiles wanders into the living room following the sounds of raucous laughter. Not seeing anyone he continues into the kitchen where he finds Scott wrestling Chris over a _pumpkin?_

 

“Hey!” Scott shouts with laughter. “This is ours, you can't see take this,” he exclaims, wrapping his arms tighter around the pumpkin Chris has got in a two armed grasp. Chris cackles in delight while trying to wrestle the pumpkin out of Scott’s hold. When he doesn't get the results he wants, he starts to walk away, dragging a resisting Scott down the hallway towards the living room.

 

Stiles can't help but laugh as Scott’s socks slip along the floor. Allison arrives and joins in on trying to get the pumpkin back.

 

“Were you the ones who put the pumpkins on our porch?” she demands as she breathlessly tries to stop Chris from getting to the living room and eventually out the front door.

 

“What? What pumpkin?” he replies with another cackle. “Why do you assume it was Moi?”

 

“Because you're an asshole,” Stiles chimes in as he leans against the doorframe crossing his arms before raising a brow at Chris over his wrestling match over their pumpkin.

 

Chris just tosses him a cocky grin.

 

A movement out of Stiles peripheral has him starting, turning to his right.

 

“Peter? What are- Where did- Where did you come from?” Stiles demands in bewilderment.

 

Peter flashes him a smirk. “Oh just the bathroom,” he says, waving his hand towards the back of the hall.

 

Stiles looks at him suspiciously. “What do you have in your hand?” he demands, noting the guy’s suspicious behavior.

 

“What? In my hand? Nothing,” Peter protests, holding up the one nearest Stiles.

 

“Dammit Peter, I know you took something!” Stiles advances on the other guy, grabbing his biceps so he can try and peer behind him.

 

“Whoa, Stiles, I never knew you felt this way,” Peter teases, leaning away from him. “At least go out on a date with me first.”

 

Stiles presses against the older guy focused on finding out what the man has in his other hand and not really paying attention to how he's plastered himself to Peter's front.

 

“Whoa, should we like give you two privacy?” Chris calls out.

 

“Wh—What?!” Stiles sputters indignantly. “Peter took something and I want to know what!”

 

A chorus of ‘sure he did’ rings out and Stiles pushes Peter away.

 

“Fine I'll prove it!” he shouts as he stalks to the bathroom.

 

Looking around, Stiles can't see anything obviously missing, but he knows that doesn't mean anything. Peter is trouble with a capital _T_ and something is niggling at the back of his mind. After another minute of pursual, he admits to himself he can't place what's gone. Not admitting he didn't take anything though he thinks, giving a huff of frustration. “Peter definitely took something,” he mutters to himself as he gives the room another slitty eyed sweep of his gaze.

 

Walking back out to rejoin the others, he notices that Chris is now gone. Stiles raises his eyebrows and purses his lips at his roommates. Looking at Peter, he narrows his eyes. “I know you took something,” Stiles accuses, crossing his arms in indignation.

 

Peter just smirks and holds up both hands in defense. “Sorry, buddy, got nothing on me.” He smiles smugly, and Stiles _knows for sure_ he's swapped something.

 

“Oh yeah, prove it,” Stiles demands, making a twirling gesture for turn-around.

 

So, Peter obliges obediently, hands still in front of him. When he’s facing the other way, Stiles reaches over and lifts his shirt, running his hands along Peter's sides. Cat-calls sound from behind him and Stiles flushes in embarrassment before pulling the shirt down and stepping back.

 

Begrudgingly he admits there's nothing there.

 

“See, you should trust me more,” Peter says in a wounded manner, hand now across his chest and backing towards the entrance hall doorway. “Stiles, why would I lie to you? I mean I even gave you pumpkins,” he adds slyly.

 

“Oh my God, Peter! You asshole!” everyone shouts together.

 

Stiles sputters, arms flailing in protest.

 

With a cackle, Peter whirls around and dashes towards the front door.

 

“Toodles!” he shouts out. “Gotta go, can't be late for work!”

 

The slamming of the front door rattles the house as the four friends gape at one another.

 

“Oh my God, that asshole totally stole those pumpkins! I was lying when I said it was them. I just thought they were most likely to have done it,” admits Lydia with a huff.

 

“See, I told you he's an asshole. He totally took something again tonight,” Stiles insists jabbing his finger in the air for emphasis.

 

“I don't know,” Allison says skeptically. “If he did, it would have to be small. He didn't have anything on him. I think you might be paranoid, anti-Peter,” she adds.

 

“Oh really?” says Stiles, looking around the room with his arms crossed. “What about _your_ pumpkin then?”

 

“I stopped it,” Scott says, “so it's okay. I even put it back on top of the fridge.”

 

“Uh huh,” Stiles responds, making an okay sure face and nonchalantly shrugging as he looks towards said fridge from his position in the living room. “Top of the fridge you said?”

 

“Yeah, top of the fridge,” Scott says as Stiles leisurely strolls to the kitchen. “It's right—” he stops at an abrupt halt next to Stiles.

 

“It's right—” Stiles prompts his friend with a go on gesture, eyebrow cocked and face tilting down.

 

Scott gapes with a wide mouth and big eyes at the vacant fridge top. He sputters out a noise of distress. “It was right there,]!” he shouts in protest. “I put it back in the same spot.” Scott gestures wildly at where the pumpkin is supposed to be but obviously isn't.

 

“Uh-huh,” Stiles says darkly with a scowl. “Assholes, the both of them. Assholes.”

 

************

 

"Stiles. Hey, Stiles, are you awake?" Scott taps lightly on his roommate’s door. "Stiles," he whispers as he gently pushes the door open. Peering inside he squints his eyes in an attempt to make out the other man's body on the bed. Quietly he walks into the room, making his way over to the sleeping man. "Hey, Stiles, are you awake?" he asks as he gently pokes his roommate’s arm.

 

"Mflkdsamklj," is the response he gets in return. Scott tries again. "Stiles, Stiles, wake up!" he whisper-shouts while prodding the sleeping guy’s arm a little harder.

 

"Eh, what? " Stiles groggily opens his eyes, suddenly yelling in fright at the dark form looming over him in the dark. He draws back his fist to throw a punch when he realizes it's just Scott standing next to his bed.

 

"Scott? Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks as he sits up, rubbing his eyes in confusion.

 

"Uh, s―sorry," Scott stammers in a whisper. “It's just that something is tapping against my window, and it’s freaking me out. I peeked outside, but I couldn't see anything. Allison's still at work and so is Lydia. So can you help me?" he asks anxiously.

 

"Yeah sure, Scott, no problem," Stiles replies as he grabs his eyeglasses from his nightstand and shoves them on his face with a yawn. He stuffs his feet into his slippers and starts to shuffle forward. Scott grabs his arm, clinging tightly above the elbow.

 

"I had just turned off my t.v. and was settling down in bed with my eyes closed when I heard this tapping noise,” Scott whispers as he tightens his grip on the other guy’s arm.

 

“Okay,” Stiles says, wincing a little. Who knew Scott had so much strength in his hands.

 

“Why are we whispering?” he whispers back to Scott as they reach the bedroom door.

 

“Because I didn’t want whoever or whatever is outside to know that I’m awake. You know in case we need to call the cops or something,” Scott hisses back as they draw to a halt in the doorway.

 

“Oh,” Stiles replies with a gulp, “that makes sense.”

 

Apprehensively the two shuffle their way over to Scott’s bed, slowly easing themselves onto it so they can reach the window. Stiles carefully pushes a curtain aside, easing the blinds apart with the pointer finger of his right hand.

 

“Do you see anything?” Scott breathes out next to him.

 

“No,” Stiles murmurs back. “Maybe whatever was out there is gone now, buddy.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Scott says with a sheepish laugh, tension easing out of his body.

 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

 

Both guys tense up suddenly, Scott lunging forward and grasping Stiles’s arm in another vice like grip.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath and turns to face the window. Carefully he moves the blinds apart before peering out. A flash of yellow from the top of his eyesight catches his attention. He looks up, eyes widening in angry disbelief. Grimly he pulls back, twisting around to climb off the bed.

 

“What is it? Did you see it?” Scott squeaks.

 

“Oh yeah, I saw it. Go to my room, Scott, I’ll be right back.”

 

“What? Stiles! No! What if it’s dangerous?” he hisses in alarm.

 

“Don’t worry buddy, it’s not me you need to worry about. I’ll be right back,” Stiles grimly reassures his friend.

 

Stiles stalks next door to his neighbor’s side. Throwing open the other front door, haven’t they heard of locks, he makes his way upstairs to the second floor. He takes his fist and politely knocks against the wood loudly.

 

“Hey, Stiles,” Danny says, throwing open the door a little wider. “Is everything ok?” he asks with a puzzled look. No music is blaring tonight and it’s actually relatively quiet, so he’s a little confused as to why their reclusive neighbor is standing before him in his sleep clothes, eyeglasses, and _big green lizard slippers?_

 

Stiles gives Danny a tight little smile. “Sorry, Danny, can I come in for a moment? Just have something to take care of right quick,” he says.

 

“Oh yeah, sure, sorry, come on in.” Danny steps aside and gestures for the guy to enter. Stiles steps inside, eyes drawn to the foosball table against the wall directly from him, the only piece of furniture actually in the room now that he is paying attention. He walks further into the room, turning left and heading towards the hallway, instinctively knowing where to go as this level is almost the exact replica of the floor below. Derek is standing in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen, red solo cup in hand and eyeing him in amusement, already wise as to why Stiles is visiting.

 

“What’s up?” he says with a little nod of his head, smirking when he sees the lizard slippers on the younger guy’s feet.

 

“Hi, Derek,” Stiles says politely as he continues through the other doorway to the second bedroom.

 

Ahh, bingo he thinks as he walks through the bedroom door. He walks quietly over to the window where the two guys snickering to themselves. Stiles taps Peter on the shoulder.

 

“Derek, hold on, just a couple of more minutes. I’m pretty sure Scott is freaking out down there,” Peter says, shrugging Stiles’ hand off his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, that’s not me,” Derek replies from the door before taking another sip of his beer.

 

“And Scott’s currently chilling in my bedroom right now you assholes, thank you very much,” Stiles says with a snarl.

 

Peter and Chris yelp and turn around together. Stiles holds out his hand. “Give me back our fucking duck Peter,” he hisses, holding out his right hand between the two of them.

 

Peter smirks, eyes a little glassy from his last hit and the smell of beer on his breath when he laughs out a, “Hey Stiles, fancy to see you here!” Chris snorts out a laugh, clapping his hands over his mouth in self-preservation when he sees the dirty look Stiles throws his way.

 

Stiles clenches his teeth, pissed off at being woken up because his asshole of immature housemates think it’s funny to scare his roommate. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he snarls at Peter before reaching over and snatching the rope out of the other guy’s hand and yanking the aforementioned rubber ducky back up into the room. With one last violent tug, the duck pops over the window seal and Stiles catches it in his hands. Quickly he rips the rope off from around the duck’s neck before tossing the piece of nylon back at the idiot in front of him. Clutching the duck to his chest, he stabs a finger at first Peter and then Chris, snarling a vicious, “Tomorrow I expect your sober asses to apologize for your stupid juvenile behavior to Scott.” Finished with Peter and Chris he spins around and storms towards the door.

 

Derek is still leaning against the doorframe with arms folded, watching the whole debacle unfolding in Boyd’s bedroom with an amused smile on his face. Stiles draws to a stop, giving a small nod to Derek before stiffly saying a polite, “Derek, have a good night.” As he walks past, Derek calls out a “Nice slippers Stiles,” with a laugh. Stiles keeps walking with his head up and no hesitation in his steps as the tails of his lizard slippers thump softly each time he places a foot down. “I know, thanks,” he calls back, nodding a curt goodbye to Danny and Isaac before walking back out the door.

 

Derek looks back into the room at his idiot uncle and friend. Peter and Chris both look sheepish and a lot more sober after their encounter with hurricane Stiles. “You guys are idiots,” Derek snorts with a roll of his eyes before turning around and heading back into the kitchen to refill his cup.

 

Stiles opens his bedroom door, looking in trying to spot Scott. “Hey, Scott, everything’s okay. You can go back to bed now.” He holds up the rubber ducky and waves it around a little. “Problem solved.”

 

“Oh!” Scott exclaims from his bed. “You’re okay? Nothing happened?”

 

“Nah,” Stiles assures his roommate. “It was just Peter and Chris trying to have their usual fun. No need to worry now.”

 

“Thanks, Stiles,” Scott says happily as he starts back to his own bed.

 

“Welcome bro. Oh yeah, Peter and Chris have something to tell you tomorrow. Let me know if they don’t come to talk to you,” Stiles calls out before closing his door.

 

“What? What do they have to say?” Scott calls back in confusion.

 

“Dunno, but I’m supposed to remind them if they forget,” comes Stiles’s muffled reply. “So, make sure to let me know!”

 

“Oh, okay, Stiles, thanks again. Goodnight.”

 

“Night, Scotty.”

 

************

 

“What are they doing?” Allison asks as she and the other three roommates climb out of her car. They walk together over to the vacant parking spaces beside the house, looking up to where Chris is hanging out of the second-floor window with a keg dangling from his hands.

 

“Look out below,” he bellows before dropping the keg.

 

Peter is hanging out of the next window, laughing in delight at his best friends antics.

 

“Hey!” Isaac exclaims angrily from the ground next to his car. “You were supposed to wait for me to move before you let go, you shit head!”

 

“I said look out below!” Chris shouts back.

 

Allison, Lydia, Stiles and Scott just stand together gaping in astonishment at their housemates.

 

“Did he really just toss a keg out of the second-floor window?” Scott asks stunned.

 

“Yup,” Lydia replies with a pop of her lips. “He sure did. Right out that window.”

 

Stiles just shakes his head, not really surprised at what he witnesses at this house anymore.

 

Derek turns around, spotting the four housemates standing behind him. “Hey guys,” he calls out as he strolls over, taking in their dumbfounded expressions. Danny wanders over too, leaving Isaac to keep yelling profanities to the two guys above while trying to wrangle the keg into the back seat of his car.

 

Allison just shakes her head, a grimace twisting her face. “Derek, why is Chris tossing kegs out of the window?”

 

“Oh that,” Derek says with a smirk, turning to look back up at his friend as he prepares to toss another keg to the ground. “We’re too lazy to haul them down the stairs, so we figured out the window they go. We need to return them so we can get new ones for the party next weekend.” Derek turns back around, noting how the four housemates wince as the second keg hits the ground with a loud clang followed by more of Isaac’s cursing.

 

“Awesome,” Stiles deadpans.

 

Danny looks at him with a small smile and gives a tiny shrug of his shoulders as if to say, hey crazy roommates and friends, what can you do?

 

“Hey, Stiles!” Peter yells from his window. “Did you see the new trailer for The Two Towers?”

 

Stiles looks up at the guy hanging out of the window, a grin spread wide across his face. He eyes him carefully, tensing a little when Peter keeps leaning even further out.

 

Stiles looks around to see if any of their other neighbors are witnessing this debacle before replying in resignation. “Yeah Peter, I saw it. It looks awesome,” he calls back to try and be polite.

 

‘’What Stiles? I can’t hear you!” the other guy shouts back with a laugh while cupping his ear. “You’re too quiet, you need to speak up!”

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles mutters under his breath a little embarrassed that somebody who doesn’t live with them sees this. “Is this guy for real?” he grimaces.

 

He hears a small snort escape Scott’s mouth. Stiles turns to his roommate and raises an eyebrow as if so say, Don’t encourage him! and Scott clamps a hand over his lips.

 

“Hey, Stiles, you and me! We have to see the movie together! These losers aren’t interested and don’t know how to truly appreciate Tolkien’s and Peter Jackson’s work!”

 

Stiles just stares in disbelief up at the second floor with wide eyes unsure of how he wants to respond to this proposal. “You know, he’s going to keep shouting until you answer him,” Derek says with a chuckle. Danny nods his head in agreement from the other side of Derek.

 

“Peter, stop hanging out the window,” Stiles calls back when the guy leans even further out, hips now resting above the window sill and only one hand being used to hold onto the frame.

 

“What Stiles? Did you say it was a date?”

 

Stiles scowls up at the monkey dangling from the window, crossing his arms in irritation, and okay maybe a little bit of concern. Oh my God, does this guy have a death wish or something?

 

“Seriously, Stiles,” Allison says worriedly. “I think Derek’s right. He’s not going to give up and he might just fall out the window if you don’t answer him. Why don’t you just say yes.” She gasps as Peter’s hand slips a bit and he flails to catch his balance.

 

“Really?” Stiles snarks back at his roommate with a look of disbelief. Derek raises his eyebrows, looking at Stiles and then to Peter and back to Stiles. “He may be a little high at the moment,” Derek admits rubbing the back of his neck before crossing his arms across his chest. “Probably not functioning at his best,” he adds when Peter lets out a whoop and lunges for the window frame to keep from slipping further. Danny stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I’d say he’s more than a little high, honestly. He got some really good shit yesterday.” Derek tosses a grin to his roommate in agreement at these words.

 

“Come on Stiles! Just say yes! I won’t go back in until your say yeeeessss!” he sing-songs obnoxiously, voice echoing throughout the neighborhood.

 

Beside him, Chris stands in the window clapping his hands and chanting, “Just say yes! Just say yes!”

 

Lydia claps Stiles on his shoulder and leans forward, “Just take one for the team before the idiot falls out of the window and bashes his fucking brains on the driveway. You know what a bitch that will be to clean up. We understand it is a pity agreement and we are not judging you,” she hisses in his ear.

 

Stiles groans and rubs his face with his hands. “Okay Peter, I’ll go with you to see the Two Towers. As a friend,” he adds hastily. “Only as a friend”.

 

“Woohoo! Stiles is going with me to see the Two Towers!” Peter does a fist pump in victory and points a finger at Stiles in triumph. “You won’t regret this,” he calls out in delight.

 

Allison comes up and wraps her right arm around Stiles’s waist, hooking her chin over his left shoulder. “When is the movie out?” she asks quietly in his ear.

 

“Right before Christmas, so about two months. I still have time to get out of it,” he mutters back.

 

“Hmm…” Lydia responds as she leans against his right side staring thoughtfully at the celebrating guys above them.

 

Chris cheers from the other window, going over to give his best friend a hug in congratulations. “You won’t regret this,” Chris shouts from window to support his best bud.

 

“I already do,” groans Stiles hanging his head in defeat and shoulders slumping as his roommates and Derek and Danny look on in amusement. “I already do,” he sighs in resignation.

 

************

 

“Alight we can do this!” Scott claps his hands in excitement.

 

Stiles just scratches his nose while Lydia snorts.

 

The three are currently on their front porch getting ready for a night time run. In support of Scott’s emotional breakdown last week from stepping on the bathroom scale and seeing that his freshman 15 (okay let's be real, it's the freshman 30 for culinary students due to all the mandatory taste testing), is still around and creeping up towards a solid sophomore 40, Stiles and Lydia have been going out and pounding the pavements every night since then to help keep Scott company. (And let's be honest, safe too.)

 

“Hey, Danny is joining us tonight. I hope that okay with your guys?” Scott says hopefully as he starts stretching.

 

“Sure, Scott, no problem,” Stiles says kindly, readjusting the knit beanie he has pulled over his wayward locks.

 

“I don’t care,” Lydia says with a shrug. “The more the merrier I guess.” She pops her gum and starts examining her nails in boredom.

 

The pounding of feet on the staircase draws their attention.

 

“Hey guys,” Danny calls out cheerfully as he clears the door. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says with a dimpled sweet smile, “Peter wants to join us tonight.” He turns and looks towards Stiles before leaning in, “I figure since we’re running if he annoys you, it wouldn’t look weird if you start running away from him,” he whispers apologetically. “Ahh,” he says in a louder voice, “he’ll be down as soon as he finishes getting his sneakers on.”

 

Soon more footsteps can be heard coming down the steps. Chris clears the door first with Peter right on his heels.

 

“Hi guys,” Chris says with a wave. “I’m going to be your support group tonight. Woo hoo!” he shouts with a fist pump.

 

The others stare at the grinning man with wide eyes. “Uh, our support?” Danny asks startled, wondering if he has made a huge mistake and has inevitably ended up on hurricane Stiles’ shit list. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“Oh you know, I’m going to be your cheerleader,” Chris says smugly. “I’m going to follow you in my car, maybe blare some ‘Eye of the Tiger’ and shout out encouraging words for motivation,” he continues with a shit eating grin.

 

Stiles just face palms. Scott blushes at the idea of people actually seeing them running. (There’s a reason he chose night time to run dammit!). Lydia sighs while Danny rolls his eyes, neither surprised at this latest development. Peter, well Peter just smirks at Stiles from across the porch, smug that he has the coolest best friend in the world and that he’s going to spend at least the next hour in the presence of his crush.

 

************

 

“Why is the loveseat in the kitchen?”

 

“Scott felt like rearranging.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

“We never use the dining room table anyway.”

 

“Right. Right. Good point.”

 

“We also really don’t need three sofas in our living room. Well a couch, a loveseat and a sofa, but you know what I mean.”

 

“Another good point.”

 

“The loveseat is more comfortable to sit on when we want to warm up by the stove anyways.”

 

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

 

************

 

The walls of the rooms shake with the thump of the subwoofer from above. Allison looks at Stiles with a sly smirk on her face. “You’re taking this well,” she says, arching an eyebrow.

 

Stiles just waves his hand idly in response as he takes a drink from his glass of iced tea. “Peter and I came to an agreement. I get to call the cops at one a.m. to shut the party down.”

 

Allison’s eyes widen in shock. “You guys prearranged a call to the cops to break up a party?”

 

“Yeah, they just want to make their rent money and maybe some extra spending cash, but they don’t want them to stay all night. So I call the cops at one o’clock unless he tells me to do it earlier,” Stiles says nonchalantly.

 

“What do we get in return?” Lydia demands as she walks up to join them in the living room.

 

“Well all the free alcohol we want, ‘cause it’s currently twenty bucks a head to get in,” he says with a smirk and a salute of his glass.

 

“Well alright then, I’m in,” Lydia says cheerfully clapping her hands on Allison’s shoulder. “Want to go up with me to check out the fun?”

 

“Sure, I can always use a free drink,” Allison says with enthusiasm.

 

****************

 

“Sweet Jesus, that better not be more people for the party,” Stiles says with a sigh when the doorbell rings again.

 

He goes to the front of the house, roommates tagging along to throw open the door. Random people are milling around on the porch and on the sidewalk in front of the house. Several party goers look over before turning away to continue whatever they were doing. Looking around and not seeing anyone he knows, Stiles gives a shrug of his shoulders and closes the door.

 

The group hasn’t even made it all the way back into the living room when the bell rings again. “Oh for Christ's sake,” he says, stalking back to the door and yanking it open. “What,” he snaps out, expecting to see some random idiot in his doorway.

 

Peter gives a sly grin and cocky wave to his housemates. He’s dressed all in black and holding a leather bound book. After another moment of perusal Stiles speaks in a dry tone, “Seriously, aren’t you worried about going to hell?”

 

The guy leers at him, cheeks flushed a little from some earlier drinks (and a hit or two from the bong on the third floor). “Hey Stiles, how’s it going?” he asks cheekily.

 

Allison and Lydia peer over Stiles’s shoulder, breaking into laughter when they see their neighbor’s Halloween costume. “Nice,” they chorus out loudly. Scott’s head wiggles its way between their bodies. “What’s nice?” he asks curiously.

 

“Peter’s a priest,” Stiles replies in amusement. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame before glancing down to see Scott’s reaction. Scott gives Peter a scandalized look.

 

************

 

“So why are you hiding downstairs in our house, when it’s your party going on upstairs?” Stiles asks as he places his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side.

 

Chris just gives him a sheepish look from his spot on the blue couch as he scratches his head. “Yeah, it’s a little crazy up there,” he admits.

 

“By the way, what are you?” Stiles asks puzzled.

 

“Oh, I’m a pimp!” Chris replies cheerfully, delighted at his costume.

 

“You look like a ghetto Oscar the Grouch,” Stiles deadpans back.

 

A slam of a door and the shuffling of multiple feet draws both guys attention to the front hall doorway. In a moment Allison and Lydia stumble their way through with an amused Derek and Boyd in tow.

 

“Seriously,” Stiles mutters. “Since when did this become hideout central? Where’s Scott at? You guys didn’t leave him by himself upstairs?” he asks in a louder voice.

 

Allison and Lydia giggle. “Shit, I’ll go get him,” Lydia says when she catches her breath, heading back through the hall and outside to retrieve their abandoned roommate.

 

Stiles frowns before gesturing at the couch. “Make yourselves at home,” he says wryly to Derek and Boyd.

 

“Don’t mind if we do,” Derek sasses back with a salute of his beer before plopping down next to Chris. Boyd gives him a small smile before carefully taking a seat on the cream-colored sofa in front of the windows.

 

“Didn’t you have another love seat or something in here?” Boyd inquires in a soft voice, eyebrows furrowed while looking around the room in confusion.

 

“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen,” Allison says with a wave of her hand towards the other room.

 

At their guest’s blank looks Stiles just shrugs. “Scott wanted to rearrange. We’ve learned it’s best to just let him go.”

 

“Ahh…” The three other men nod their heads in fake understanding.

 

************

 

“Hey man, nice green velour tracksuit. I’ve never seen that shade before. That pimp clock necklace is bitchin’ too!”

 

Chris beams brightly. “Aww...shucks.” The man ducks his head in fake bashfulness at the praise.

 

“Setting the clock to 4:20 is a sweet touch.”

 

“I thought so too! Don’t tell,” the other guy stage whispers behind his hand with a wink, “but it was my awesome roommate's idea.”

 

Boyd snorts from his spot on the couch shaking his head. Derek and Allison double over in laughter, slapping their knees in delight.

 

Stiles just looks between Chris and Peter as they stand with their arms around each other's shoulders beaming at the cleverness of their costumes.

 

“What does 4:20 mean?” Scott asks with a confused look on his face.

 

Lydia makes a motion of taking a hit from a bong.

 

“Oh…”

“Ooh…”

“Ooooh….”

 

Stiles just looks around the room and rubs his face tiredly. What did he do in a past life for it to come to this?

 

************

 

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! MAKE IT STOP! OH MY GOD THE BATHROOOOOOM!!!”

 

Scott’s startled yells pierce the apartment over the thumping of the subwoofer and pounding of feet above their heads. The three other roommates run to the bathroom, hearts beating rapidly in their chests.

 

“What’s wrong?” Allison says breathlessly, trying to calm her racing heart. Lydia and Stiles poke their heads around the door to see what is going on. Scott has a look of horror and disgust all on his face, body perched on the rim of the bathtub next to the sink and furthest away from the door possible. The other three are confused until a splash lands on Stiles’ hand that’s wrapped around the door frame.

 

“What the fuck!” he exclaims as he wipes his hand on his pant leg.

 

Scott points with the plunger to the ceiling above the toilet and the other three friends follow his arm.

 

There is a moment of silence before a chorus of outraged and horrified voices fill the air.

 

“Oh my God! Is that what I think it is?”

 

“What the fuck!”

 

“First the kitchen and now the bathroom?”

 

“Oh hell no, Peter’s going down. Scott, don’t touch anything, Peter’s cleaning this shit up!” Stiles snaps, storming back towards the front of the house.

 

He is okay with the party. Prearranged call time for the cops, the promise of free drinks and of course making sure they clean up all the trash left behind make four hours of steady bass and house shaking agreeable. There’s a line though and unidentifiable liquids coming down walls and through ceilings is it, he fumes to himself.

 

Stiles grabs the doorknob and yanks the door open, bellowing an outraged, “Peter!” at the top of his lungs.

 

Standing before him, wearing a fitted navy blue t-shirt, yellow fireman pants with red suspenders and a cute red plastic fireman hat perched atop of his neatly styled hair is Allison’s coworker, Parrish. In one hand is a red solo cup and the other is raised in front of him in mid-knock.

 

“Pa—Parrish,” Stiles stutters in surprise, eyes wide and momentarily distracted by Allison’s friend.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Stiles?”

 

The “Stiles” from two different directions has Stiles looking around confused for a moment before he spots Peter shoving his way through a small cluster of people at the bottom of the porch.

 

Parrish looks around for a moment before noticing an attractive guy dressed as a priest approaching them. The two men size each other up as Stiles takes a momentary lapse of his senses to enjoy the view of the two good looking males before him.

 

With a shake of his head to break the daze that has suddenly come over him, he manages to pull himself together and back to his senses. “Uh Parrish, h—hi, you must be here for Allison. She’s somewhere in the house. Come on in, she’s waiting for you.” Stiles steps aside and gestures for Parrish to enter. Parrish gives a small nod to the priest before turning back to grin a hello at Stiles as he walks past the younger man.

 

“Oh yeah, just keep going through there, she’s either in her room or maybe the living room or even the kitchen,” Stiles shyly calls out with a smile.

 

“Thanks, Stiles,” Parrish says, before sauntering through the doorway in search of Allison.

 

Stiles turns around to look at Peter, feeling his body tense automatically and his hands tightening into fists. Peter looks back at him with a puzzled smile on his face, eyes searching, trying to figure out why the man was shouting out his name into the night. They have an agreement and people have been sticking to the front of the house ever since Stiles kicked a group of smokers off their back porch earlier in the night. He has been diligent in patrolling around the house randomly all night to make sure nothing happens and well, okay to make sure he stays in Stiles’ good graces too. Something has gone wrong though if the glare directed at his face has anything to say on the matter.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath to try and stay calm. Then he takes another. Nope, not working he thinks as he feels his left eye beginning to twitch. Through clenched teeth, he grits out, “Do you have any idea what has happened?”

 

Peter shakes his head back and forth, eyes wide and a little scared at how Stiles looks at him. Peter flinches when he sees Stiles’s arm come up, but instead of being hit, the infuriated guy grabs the front of his shirt and yanks really hard until they are nearly nose to nose.

 

“There is water from upstairs, most likely from the toilet, coming down through the ceiling tiles and it’s covering everything. It happened when Scott was using the bathroom. You are going to FIX IT RIGHT NOW! WE EXPECT LOTS OF BLEACH TO BE USED! ”

 

Before Peter can respond, Stiles is dragging him by the front of his shirt into the house, front door slamming in finality behind them.

 

************

 

“So let me get this straight,” Parrish says from next to Stiles on the sofa. “Not only did you have the toilet from upstairs overflow into your bathroom tonight, earlier in the day Jungle Juice was pouring down your walls in the kitchen?”

 

Stiles nods his head wearily, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of him, too numb with exhaustion after tonight's festivities to do much more. It’s three a.m. and the party has been over for two hours. The call to the cops had worked perfectly in clearing out the place in less than ten minutes flat. Now, everyone is kind of lolling about on the furniture in their living room. Allison and Parrish have just returned from another party a few minutes ago and Scott and Lydia are having a late night or really an early morning snack. Peter has just left, throwing another apologetic look over his shoulder at Stiles before hanging his head and shuffling his way over to his side of the house. The other housemates are either passed out or quickly headed that way in their own respective apartments somewhere above them.

 

Lydia pauses before taking a sip of her water to answer. “Well, technically not pouring as so much more along the lines of horror story bleeding. You know that moment in a horror movie when you hear the mysterious dripping sound, and you’re looking around for it, and the tension is building up because you know it’s bad whatever happens next?”

 

Parrish nods his head, skepticism clear on his face, glancing around at the others to see if she’s exaggerating.

 

Lydia takes another sip of her drink before continuing the story. “Yeah, that was us this afternoon. We were hanging out in the kitchen talking about the upcoming party, and we hear this dripping noise. We look around, and all of a sudden there it was, something red sliding down the walls by the kitchen stove. We thought someone had been murdered.”

 

“Stiles went upstairs with a broom to check up on the guys,” Allison says solemnly. “He was the only one with the balls to go.”

 

“What was it? What happened?”

 

Stiles rubs his face tiredly. “It was Danny making the Jungle Juice for the party tonight, only he forgot to cap the spigot of the cooler so whatever he was pouring in was steadily going right back out. Damn guy was so out of it. (“High,” coughs Lydia.) He didn’t even realize he was literally standing in a near perfect half circle of the shit. It looked like he performing some ritual sacrifice. I mean, he had enough room to move around without stepping on it, but there was literally over a gallon of the stuff on the floor. Creepy as hell,” he says with a shudder. “Took me almost five minutes of yelling at the top of my lungs before he could hear me over the music.”

 

“Aww…” Parrish gives him a sympathetic smile as he runs his hand through Stiles’ hair.

 

Stiles leans into the touch for a moment before he buries his face in his hands and groans.

 

************

 

After managing to usher everyone out and back to their respective places Stiles sits on his bed and thinks about the events of the past 24 hours. He can't believe after everything that has happened, he is starting to like Peter. At one point in the night, Stiles got to meet the guy’s best friend, Melissa, who came in from California to visit her childhood buddy. She was a fierce woman with biting wit and a smirk on her face that Stiles is quickly coming to associate with all things connected to the Hales. They had hung out on the stairwell and just talked about random things for over an hour while guarding against stragglers from heading up to the top floor. It was nice as she even slipped in a few stories of younger Peter and the sass he got in trouble with.

 

Eventually, he, Melissa, Chris, and Peter had made it upstairs for some quiet. Stiles must have dozed off because suddenly he's feeling cozy and a muffled noise was capturing his attention. Peering into the dim light cast by a lamp he had spotted Peter, favorite knit toboggan hat on his head, tucking in Melissa on the couch and then making his way over to the bean bag to do the same to Chris, who was passed out. He had thought it was adorable before realizing he was covered in a blanket that had not been there earlier in the night.

 

That was definitely his _Oh Fuck_ moment he thinks with a sigh, rubbing a hand tiredly across his eye and yawning big. There's nothing he can do about it now and he's too tired to analyze it further. He’ll just have to wait until he's more well rested he thinks as he swings his legs up and crawls under the covers.

 

************

 

A pounding on the door has Stiles jerking awake suddenly. He groggily rubs his eyes hoping it is just a dream. No such luck, whoever is at the door is determined to wake up the entire house. Not even bothering with his glasses he just stuffs his feet into his slippers and storms out of his room, a little pissed that he’s only gotten two hours of sleep. When he walks through the front hall doorway he spots Scott at the door with a terrified look on his face.

 

“Sorry, Stiles,” he apologizes, flinching when another pounding sounds from the other side of the door. “Don’t worry,” he adds hastily. “It’s for me. I’ve got it, you can just go back to bed.” He tries to intercept his roommate, but it’s too late. Stiles yanks the door open to see who is on the other side, prepared to rip someone’s head off. He blinks in surprise at the sight before him, cocking his head and squinting his eyes to get a better look. Isaac is standing before him, pissed off and still dressed in his nerd costume from the night before. Only instead of just black rimmed glasses on his face, he now has the added accessories of bright blue and black words with random designs decorating his skin including a penis drawn on his forehead. Isaac and Stiles just stare at each other, unsure of what to do next. Isaac mumbles an embarrassed, “Sorry for waking you, Stiles,” before looking away. Stiles clears his throat and gives him a quick, “It’s okay,” back.

 

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got nothing,” Stiles admits, staring at the train wreck that is now Isaac’s face.

  
A noise behind them has Stiles looking to see that Lydia has now joined the group, sleepily rubbing her eyes before breaking out into a grin at the sight of Isaac. Scott has his hands up to his mouth, eyes guilty. Stiles just stares at his two roommates before stabbing a finger in their direction and hissing out a sharp, “Deal with this!” With a whirl he’s stalking back to his bed shaking his head, lizard tails thumping behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Minor smut near the beginning of this chapter.  
> **Mentions of infidelity.

* * *

 

“Parrish keeps asking about you.” Allison side-eyes her roommate suspiciously as they trudge up the hill towards their street. “Why does Parrish keep asking about you?”

 

“Dunno,” Stiles puffs beside her. “I haven’t talked to him lately,” he responds with a hitch of his backpack.

 

Liar, he thinks to himself, you know exactly why he’s asking about you.

 

In a stupid moment of weakness two weeks ago Stiles was supposed to be hanging out watching movies, but instead, he found himself splayed out on Parrish’s living room couch with said guy grinding down on top of him with his pants pulled down around his hips. His tongue trying to find a home in Stiles’ mouth and a hand shoved up his shirt, fingers clamped on his nipple. Before the night’s end Stiles’ own hands were gripping two fistfuls of the brunette’s locks and Parrish’s head was bobbing between his legs, lips spit slick and sliding up and down his cock leading him towards a mind-blowing orgasm. Dawn found Stiles with only his t-shirt on, naked legs entwined with another pair playing the little spoon to Parrish’s big spoon before guilt set in and he was yanking on his jeans and quietly slipping out the front door with socks and sneakers in hand. He hasn’t spoken to the other guy since that night except for a single phone call two days later when Parrish said he was taking a trip back home to tell his girlfriend in person that he had cheated on her. Stiles really felt like shit after that conversation.

 

The two roommates continue their walk in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

 

************

 

“I slept with Parrish a couple of weeks ago. Two days later he called to say he was going to tell his girlfriend in person that he had cheated on her. That’s why Parrish took that sudden trip back home.”

 

“Oh, Stiles, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Did you know?” he asks guiltily, shoulders starting to hunch up around his ears in defense.

 

“I suspected something. You’ve both been acting weird for not really spending time with each other,” Allison says gently.

 

“Why didn’t you ask?”

 

“I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would,” she replies, shrugging.

 

“Thanks, Allison.”

 

“No problem, Stiles. Anytime buddy, You know I’m always here for you,” she says with a tight side hug.

 

************

 

Allison parks her car at the end of a random dirt road by some fields. A country person can always find a field, so ha, Stiles thinks smugly to himself. In an effort to cheer up her roommate over the whole Parrish debacle, Allison has suggested a nice road trip in the country. So with the heat on full blast and two Dunkin Donut's coffees in the cup holders between them, Allison and Stiles cruise down some random highway in Connecticut before ending up here, wherever here may be.

 

Allison reaches for the coffee, handing one over to her companion before taking a sip of her own. She ruefully thinks of how she never thought that this is where she’d be, stuck between a friend and a roommate, especially since the roommate is Stiles.

 

The two sip their coffees in companionable silence, each waiting for the other to speak first. Allison dwells over what she wants to say. She won’t tell the man beside her how her coworker and friend looks like shit these days, hair in disarray a lot of the time and dark circles under his eyes. Or even how that same man had spilled everything to her in a moment of guilt and now looks like a whipped puppy every time he is in Allison’s presence. Her roommate is always saving people and Allison’s not stupid enough to give him information that might make the situation worse. Allison has decided she won’t tell Stiles to stay away from Parrish and go for Peter because she knows that Stiles will make the right choice eventually, (bumbling moments aside that is). The same cannot be said for Parrish, so she had no hesitation in pinning the man in the corner of their locker room at work and letting the guy know that if he fucks up and hurts her Stiles again, he will be completely cut out of both their lives with Stiles none the wiser on why. It really isn’t a hard choice to make she thinks. Parrish may need saving, but that can be somebody else’s job. Stiles doesn’t need to be the one to do it. Allison clears her throat before she begins speaking.

“Look, Parrish has had a rough life,” Allison says hesitantly, pausing to lick her lips, eyes searching past the windshield of the Corolla as if the next words she wants to say are written in the air on the other side of the glass. “He’s never had anything really stable, anything really constant. His mom passed away when he was a kid and his dad has been an alcoholic his entire life. He’s never had anything nice. Even his girlfriend back home is somewhat of a mess. I mean you have to have problems yourself if you keep returning to someone who cheats on you,” she mutters under her breath.

 

She gives out a sigh before continuing on. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making excuses for his deplorable behavior. I’m just trying to explain why this shit keeps happening to you. He admits he likes to party, to go out and have random hookups with classmates, some of them strangers and some familiar to him. He says he does it for the rush, the thrill and the excitement of the chase and the feeling he gets when he succeeds. When he met you, you were my sweaty weird roommate standing in the doorway of our home in a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers. Then he met you again when you actually looked like a normal human being and you sassed him and embarrassed him and made him notice you, even if that wasn’t your intention.”

 

She pauses here to take another sip of her coffee before continuing. “He’s watched you go head to head with the guys upstairs, he’s seen your interactions with Peter, he’s experienced what it’s like to have your attention on him 100% and he likes it. He likes how you treat him as a human being, not as a hookup or another piece of ass. He likes how you listen to what he has to say, how you always ask what’s going on and you listen to what he says. He likes how no matter what happens, you’re still there and you’re still listening to him and you’re still seeing him as a person. Even with all the shit that’s happened with Peter, you still treat Peter like a person, albeit sometimes more like something gross stuck on the bottom of your shoe, but I digress.” She shakes her head, thinking about Stiles’ and Peter’s interactions for a moment.

 

Allison sighs and rubs her head for a moment before she starts talking again. “No matter how much you rant and rave about Peter when he fucks up, at the end of the day, you still treat him fairly nice and give him another chance. And Parrish sees that. He sees it all,” Allison says with a sigh. “And he wants it. He wants you. But he’s selfish and he’ll hurt you because even though that’s what he wants and he knows he needs to change, he won’t, because he doesn’t know how. No matter how many times you show him, he’ll always go back for the thrill of the chase, for the euphoria of the win. He wants comfort, craves comfort, but he’s used to the familiarity of pain, so he’ll eventually run away from the comfort and go searching for the pain. Every. Single. Time. You might say he’s a bit of a masochist.”

 

Allison looks down at her coffee cup. She traces the logo with a fingertip before taking another sip and continuing on, gaze back outside to the winter weary field.

 

“You’re a constant, Stiles. You’re very predictable. You know what you want, you know where you’re going. For you, it’s right or wrong. It’s a yes or no. Yes, you may go gray in some areas, but only when you're protecting the ones you love. And hell, even that's kind of black and white. Either you like someone or you don’t. You don’t waver, you’re very firm in your convictions.” At this declaration, Allison smiles fondly at Stiles.

 

“Most people our age struggle with what they are going to wear out or what they want to drink that night at the bar. You, you don’t worry about the clothes or the drink. You worry about what happens after the drink. Will that person be okay? Do they have a ride home? Do they need a shoulder to cry on? Do you, heaven forbid,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “have to hug it out to make them feel better?” Allison gives a small laugh, looking sideways at her friend. “For all your tough exterior and snarly prickly attitude, you are actually quite a fluffy little marshmallow to the people important in your life. That’s the thing, Stiles. With Peter and with Parrish. They want to be important to you. That’s why they don’t — can’t,” she corrects herself, “stay away. You’re important to them and they want to be just as important to you. It’s just they are both idiots and neither know how to tell you. Instead, they try to show you in their own moronic immature-ish ways.”

 

Allison pauses for a moment, wondering if she should continue before shrugging and thinking, fuck it, might as well!

 

“You have this way of making someone feel like shit one minute, but then like a million bucks the next,” she continues bluntly.

 

Stiles looks over with wide eyes, a little horrified and upset to hear this about himself.

 

“Other than this little hitch in your life right now, you’ve actually got your crap together.

For all your spazziness and flailing, hating the world, ADHD issues, and _dear Lord your never ending love of flannel plaid_ , you're kind of Mr. Perfect. From your perfect skin to those whiskey-colored eyes to your crazy thick hair any girl would give her Louis Vuitton bag for. You study hard, you work hard, you love hard. Do you know that people at MY work ask about you? As in honest to God ask me every day when I show up on shift how “their” Stiles is doing and if he’s had to yell at that annoying boy upstairs or if he’s taking care of himself and staying healthy. I mean, what the hell, Stiles! They’ve never met you, they work with me, but all they care about is you. A voice over the phone and a roommate in my stories gets more concern than me, their co-worker they see every day,” Allison rants in disbelief. “Granted it’s my fault for telling them stories about your battles with the guys upstairs, but seriously, usually people hear a story and move on. They aren’t moving on. They are legitimately invested in your well being even though they will most likely never meet you,” she says with a bewildered shake of her head. “I’m a little jealous, Stiles. You do things to people, and it’s never intentional.”

 

Stiles gapes at his roommate in disbelief. “Maybe you tell stories really well,” he squeaks out in protest.

 

Allison gives him a gentle smile and softly says, “Maybe I do. Or maybe it’s because you’re an interesting person, someone worth spending the effort on.”

 

Stiles gives a snort in disbelief. “Maybe they need a life,” he snarks back in embarrassment.

 

Their conversation falls into silence, neither really sure where to go from here.

 

Stiles sits there gazing out the window at the dead grass, figure a little hunched down in on himself, finger of his right hand idly drawing small random patterns on the thigh of his jeans. He picks at a loose thread on the cuff of his _flannel plaid_ shirt sleeve before sighing and letting out a little rueful laugh. “Would you believe that ever since those two came into my life, I don’t even know what’s up or what’s down anymore,” he says with an irritated huff of air. “Boys are stupid,” he mutters darkly.

 

“Yes, they are,” Allison agrees, reaching over to take her roommate's hand in hers and giving it a tight squeeze. “They are stupid, but also a little cute and sometimes a little fun,” she says teasingly, swinging their hands back and forth. “They are sometimes even worth the effort,” she adds with a sweet smile.

 

“I hate them,” Stiles says with a pout.

 

“Hate’s a strong word, Stiles,” Allison admonishes him gently.

 

“Fine,” he huffs, “I really intensely dislike both of them,” he states, pulling his hand out of Allison’s before crossing his arms and slumping down even further in the seat while sending a dirty look to the cows outside.

 

Allison gives a big laugh, eyes twinkling in mirth at her roommate. “Oh, Stiles…,” she says fondly.

 

************

 

“Hey Stiles, have you seen the trailer for the new Harry Potter?”

 

“Yes, Peter, I have. I even own the first four books. Umm...you can borrow them if you like.”

 

“Oh, thanks. Yeah, I would appreciate that. Uh, Stiles, I was actually wondering if you would like to go with me to see the movie on opening night next week?”

 

“Sure, Peter, I’d like that. Thanks.”

 

************

 

Alright, I can do this, Stiles thinks as he nervously fixes his hair once again in the bathroom mirror. It’s only Peter. The boy has been standing in the bathroom for the past 15 minutes trying to get ready for his date. He’s a little wide-eyed and okay yeah maybe a little pale too. He can’t seem to stop fidgeting with his hair, his clothes, basically anything currently in his line of sight including but not limited to whatever is on their sink as he fiddles yet again with rearranging the toothbrushes in their holder. A knock on the bathroom door startles him and he juggles the tube of toothpaste _where did that come from_ as he tries not to drop it in the toilet.

 

“Hey, Stiles, Peter’s here,” Allison calls through the door cheerfully.

 

Stiles sets the toothpaste down quickly, nearly knocking the toothbrushes off the sink. He winces as he catches them and hastily straightens them out, hands held out protectively in case they decide to suddenly leap off the sink in a swan dive of suicide. He straightens up and puffs out his cheeks before blowing out his breath, patting them sharply to bring some color back. _Wow, he’s really super pale and is his eyes normally this big?_ He shakes his head to break the daze and does a quick quiet, “You got this!” to himself in the mirror bringing up a fist in encouragement.

 

When he opens the door, Allison is standing there with a shit-eating grin on her face.

 

“What?” Stiles asks his roommate suspiciously, a little embarrassed that he’s so nervous about going on date with Peter.

 

“Nothing,” Allison replies in an innocent voice, a big dimpled smile on her face.

 

As Stiles goes to brush past his roommate, pausing when he hears the other two friends in the living room talking to Peter. His face fills with horror when he realizes what his roommates are doing.

 

Allison takes one look at Stiles horrified look and bursts out laughing. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t have some fun with this right?”

 

Stiles can only groan because he was hoping they wouldn't be around. He lets out a sigh and mumbles a, "Let's do this," under his breath.

 

When he enters the room he spots Peter on the blue couch, Scott on his left, Jesus is he sitting on the poor guy’s hip, give him some space Scotty!, and Lydia perched on the arm of the couch on his right looming alarmingly from above.

 

Stiles looks over at his date and sees that Peter is wearing his usual jeans and nice leather shoe combo with a blue v-neck shirt and one ugly ass corduroy coat with...elbow patches? Elbow patches?

 

“Hey, Stiles, ready to go?” Peter has a big smile stretched across his face and his cheeks are a little red. He climbs to his feet causing Scott to fall over on the couch. Peter ignores him and comes to stand in front of Stiles, an unidentifiable look flitting across his face now that they are about to finally go on a date together.

 

“Sure,” Stiles mumbles a little shyly feeling the heat begin to creep up his neck into his face. He’s secretly a little anxious about what his roommates have been saying during his self-imposed imprisonment in the bathroom earlier.

 

Peter politely gestures for Stiles to lead the way. In the entrance hall, he hurries past suddenly to open the front door for Stiles giving him a smirk as Stiles looks at him startled, a little laugh of surprise slipping out.

 

“Alright now, you two have fun. Remember to have Stiles back by 10 p.m.” Allison calls out teasingly from behind.

 

Stiles looks back at his roommates in mortification as Lydia and Scott make kissy faces at the two of them and Allison has another smirk on her face.

 

Ducking his head quickly, he grabs Peter’s arm and drags him onto the porch. Of course, they have to follow us! He pushes Peter ahead of him and then turns around to gesture a quick slice across his throat, mouthing, “knock it off,” to the three hanging out the front door. When Peter goes to turn around to look, Stiles intercepts him and gently shoves him along with a quick, “Don’t want to be late!”

 

************

 

Stiles clenches his hands into fists, attempting to resist the temptation of reaching over and decking Peter in the face. To say that the date went well is a joke. The movie was great and Peter is now a convert of Harry Potter. Stiles even offered up his personal copies of the first four books in the series for him to read. Everything was going so well, buying and sharing a large tub of popcorn and both of them with their two large drinks. The point in the movie where Peter did the cheesy stretch and laid his arm across the back of Stiles’s seat had the younger man grinning into his drink and maybe subtly shifting a little closer to his date. Stiles was thinking that maybe he was wrong about Peter and he was happy that he agreed to this date and maybe yeah they could have another date or two before the promised Two Towers premiere. And then the movie ended and they went to the bookstore to hang out. Big mistake.

 

Here it went downhill rapidly. In the children’s section of Borders bookstore to be exact, while sitting on a step they were doing an ‘I Spy’ seek and find a book that Peter said he had while growing up. Stiles is unsure how it progressed from looking for three jacks and four balls to arguing about the legality and intelligence of smoking pot and the repercussions of getting caught. Hello! Sheriff’s son here! That argument ended with Stiles red-faced and gritting his teeth in frustration and Peter smirking and rolling his eyes. In fact, Stiles is pretty much 100% positive Peter has been purposely trying to rile him up.

 

Now here they are back in Peter’s Nissan Acura driving through the rain on Hope Street headed back to their apartments.

 

“Are you seriously going to let this ruin our date?” Peter demands in frustration. “I don’t get what the big deal is and I don’t know why you have to be so stuck up about it,” he snarls angrily at Stiles.

 

“Obviously,” Stiles snaps back. And he is so through with Peter, this night, this date, he doesn’t even try to be reasonable.

 

Suddenly Peter reaches over and twists the volume button on his stereo up, blaring Puddle of Mud’s “She Fucking Hates Me” as he hits the gas. “I guess this is our song baby,” he calls out mockingly to Stiles.

 

Stiles gives him a dirty look. “Yeah if the shoe fits! Just let me out here!”

 

“What?! Seriously? Fine whatever, get the fuck out of my car. You’re ridiculous!”

 

Peter slams on his brakes across the street from their apartments and Stiles is already slamming the car door and waiting in the rain for a break in traffic to cross the street.

 

By the time he makes it to his front door, Peter has already parked his car and is running up the steps. Suddenly the front door is thrown open and Allison, Scott, and Lydia are standing there grinning at the couple.

 

“So how did it go?” Allison sings out in excitement.

 

“It was the worst fucking date ever and I will NEVER go out with this guy again!” snarls Stiles. Stiles’ roommate’s faces freeze into looks of shock at his reaction.

 

“What happened?” Allison demands, looking past Stiles to see Peter running through the rain and up the stairs to stop behind his roommate, a pissed off look on his face.

 

“I can’t put up with him!” Stiles snaps pushing back against where Peter’s chest is touching him before moving past them and storming into the house.

 

“Yeah, well it’s not like I had a good time either and don’t worry about me wanting to go out with you again,” Peter yells angrily before storming over to his side of the porch and pounding up the staircase to his place.

 

“Uh…”

 

The three roommates look at each other, unsure of how to proceed next. They hear Peter’s door slam upstairs and Stiles moving around inside their home. With a shrug, Allison closes the door and they go inside to find out what went wrong tonight.

 

************

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Allison says as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “The movie was fun, Peter insisted on paying and he even did the cheesy arm stretch, but then at Borders, you guys got into an argument over smoking pot while looking at an I Spy book in the children’s section.” Allison squints an eye at Stiles waiting for his reply.

 

“Yup.” Stiles nods his head in frustration, jaw firmed and arms crossed at the memory.

 

Scott is looking wide-eyed at Stiles, and Lydia just looks like she’s struggling on whether to be unimpressed with their roommate's behavior or bust a gut laughing at how everything went to hell in typical Stiles/Peter fashion.

 

Stiles ruffles his hair angrily. “Look I can get how we’d disagree, but he just kept pushing and pushing. Insisting I was wrong and I’m too uptight and I’m pretty sure at the end he was just saying shit to get a response from me,” he says in frustration at the memory of the evening.

 

Allison rubs her face. “Right,” she says with a tired sigh. “Well you gave it a shot and it didn’t work out,” she says with a small smile and a pat on her friend’s hand. “Now we know,” she adds with a shrug.

 

Stiles just blinks at her for a moment before shaking his head in agreement.

 

“Now we know.”

 

************

 

It’s been two weeks since the disastrous date between the two housemates. Stiles believes that all interactions between him and Peter will be, well basically non-existent. They weren’t really friends prior to the date, so there will be no reason for anything to go on between them. Stiles should have known better.

 

Currently, Stiles is lying in his bed waiting. It’s become a ritual over the past two weeks. Every night when Peter has to work late, he pulls up with classic rock blaring to park his car on the other side of Stiles’s bedroom wall. Next, he stomps as hard as possible while running up the staircase to the second floor. From here he runs into the room directly above Stiles’s room and proceeds to stomp as hard as possible for several seconds before turning on Boyd’s subwoofer at the highest level and laying it flat on the floor. He then can be heard running up the stairs to his own apartment and slamming the door. The result has left Stiles with a Pavlovian reaction, a flinch and a tensing of his body when he hears Peter’s car approaching the house. Tonight is no different and even though he’s using his ear plugs yet again, it cannot hide him from the vibrations rattling his bed.

 

************

 

“Hey, where’s Stiles? I haven’t seen him in a while,” Derek asks casually. “I’m kind of missing his grumpy little stomps with those lizard tails flapping behind him,” he says with a laugh.

 

Stiles’s roommates look at the other guys before exchanging looks with one another.

 

“Well, Stiles has started seeing this co-worker of his named Deucalion. They've been spending more time together,” Lydia states casually.

 

Lydia and Allison note how Derek, Boyd and Isaac exchange looks before eyeing Peter who is now staring at the drink gripped tightly in his hand.

 

“Though right now, he's up in New York with Scott. Scott invited him home over the weekend,” she continues on blithely. “Unfortunately, his jeep broke down across from the last house headed into the mountains, so he's having to stay another night before coming home.”

 

“Did he ever get someone to cover his work shift? I know he was hoping Deucalion could help out, but I haven't heard anything since,” Allison continues adding a little more fuel to the fire.

 

Lydia waves her hand. A beep from her phone signals an incoming text and she pauses to read, pursing her lips in displeasure at what is on the screen.

 

“Well, it looks like Deuc’s a douche who's too tired from art school and his own shifts to help Stiles out. Stiles is going to take a hit as a call off without coverage,” she huffs out in offense for her roommates poor choice in dating material.

 

Allison snorts, “Looks like Deuc might be single soon. Poor Stiles, just can't win with these guys.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lydia drawls, looking at the nails on her right hand. “There's always Parrish who is more than willing to step in and take Deucalion’s spot in Stiles affections.”

 

Peter gives a little flinch before scowling at this news. Allison side-eyes her roommate with a look of warning.

 

Derek, Boyd, and Isaac exchanged uneasy glances at this news.

 

“What, too soon? I thought it was funny,” Lydia murmurs to herself.

 

************

 

"So how far are we going to take this?" Allison asks as they walk into their apartment.

 

"Eh, let's let it ride for a bit," Lydia says with a snicker.

 

"Parrish? Really?" Allison turns to smack Lydia's shoulder sharply.

 

"What? I thought it was a nice touch," she says with a smirk.

 

************

 

Winter is back with a vengeance, the cold-hearted bitch. Stiles, Lydia, and Scott are all huddling in the kitchen. With the love seat in there and steaming cups of hot chocolate in hand, one could almost ignore the fact that there were all in sweats with knitted caps on their heads with an oven door propped open as an impromptu heater. (Hey they were college students, don’t judge.)

 

Allison comes strolling into the kitchen, knitted cap on head and wearing a sweat suit, cheeks flushed from the cold air outside. She opens the fridge and grabs a jar of salsa before snagging a spoon out of the dish drain. Scott is cringing and Lydia looks bemused as the girl scoops out a spoonful and eats it.

 

“What are you doing?” Scott looks appalled when Allison responds blithely with an, “Eating my daily veggies.” Lydia snorts hot chocolate out of her nose and Stiles loses it, hands on his side holding himself as he doubles over with laughter. Scott looks like Allison has just admitted to committing murder. (Which to Scott this is probably the equivalent.)

 

“You’re eating your daily veggies?” he says voice rising into a shrill at the end. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what they had in mind when they made the recommendation,” he says in exasperation with a gesture of his hand at the salsa jar.

 

“No? Hmm...I’m could swear this is just veggies in a jar,” she murmurs, turning the jar in her hand to read the list of ingredients stamped on the side.

 

“No no no no,” Scott says pinching his nose. “It most certainly does not count. There are other things in there, I mean just look at the sodium content in it!”

 

“Yum….,” Allison says cheekily as she takes another big bite.

 

“Scott, you’re using a gas oven to heat the kitchen. I don’t think that’s what it was intended for when they designed the thing,” she says sassily back to her younger roommate.

 

Scott makes a strangled squawk in the back of his throat.

 

************

 

Stiles stands there looking at his roommates with fondness as the squabble over the salsa. He feels warm and not from the potential carbon monoxide poisoning happening next to him. With all of the ridiculousness of this past year aside, he admits to himself that he couldn’t have picked better roommates, better friends. He stands there thinking about everything that has happened recently in their lives.

 

So yeah, his foray into dating Deucalion was a huge wash, the artist co-worker proving to him just how much of a selfish prick he is, not to mention being more in love with their other co-worker Ennis. Stiles rolls his eyes in exasperation at this.

 

And that fuck up with Parrish, jeez, who knows where the hell that might lead or if it will even lead anywhere, to begin with. They are so back and forth, neither making a move, Stiles is honestly thinking that maybe the attraction is all one-sided on his part. Knowing his luck it probably is. And honestly, maybe that’s a can of worms that he shouldn’t touch. He knows that he’s horribly attracted to Parrish and if Parrish made a move he would be more than happy to jump at the chance, but he also knows that Parrish isn’t going to change and if he chases after Parrish he’s just short changing himself. Hasn’t he always said that he deserves better than to settle for second best? Maybe he should actually listen to himself for once he thinks ruefully.

 

Peter. Christ, Peter. He shakes his head at the memory of them. Ever since he let his temper get the best of him and he acted like an asshole to the guy he’s been kind of avoiding him in shame. And Peter, well Peter is making his dislike known. Maybe? Stiles is still puzzled about Peter’s nightly routine of noise that keeps happening every weekend. He’s too embarrassed at his own past behavior to ask and well maybe a little afraid to find out that the guy really does hate him. So he’s just been silently suffering through the passive aggressive actions. Which just confuses him because he doesn’t really like Peter right?

 

************

 

“So are you still planning on going to see the ‘Two Towers’ with Peter,” Lydia asks casually, leaning against the counter next to where Stiles is working.

 

Stiles pauses in the making of their dinner to think about his answer.

 

“Yeah, I think so. That is if he's still interested,” he says wryly, taking a moment to push his glasses back up his nose.

 

“Oh, really?” she comments before popping a baby carrot in her mouth.

 

“Hey! Stop eating all the salad fixings. Soon all we’ll have left is just plain lettuce,” Stiles laughs, swatting at Lydia's hand when she tries to snag another.

 

“Anyways, yeah as a friend, you guys are right,” Stiles concedes. “He is a pretty good guy. Just not to date, though. At least not for me,” he tacks on as an absent-minded afterthought.

 

Lydia hums thoughtfully, munching on another carrot she's swiped. “So what brought this change in attitude?”

 

“Well,” Stiles admits, “I've had a few brief conversations with the other guys and you and Allison and Scott are always saying nice things and yeah we've spoken a few times in the past few weeks and it hasn't been bad,” he ends with a shrug, glancing over at the red-head with a sheepish look on his face. “So, yeah, not a bad guy.”

 

“I mean, he's not bad to talk to when he's not being such a dick,” he adds with a snort, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

 

Stiles continues on, snagging the lasagna pan and gesturing with his head towards the oven for Lydia to open the door. “Anyways, I agreed to go before our disastrous date and now that we're on friendly terms again I don't see why I can't man up and go. I mean it's not a big deal, it's just a movie with a fellow admirer of Tolkien and Jackson. We agreed to go as just friends, so yeah, I'm going to see ‘The Two Towers’ with Peter.” He slides the dish in and closes the door pausing to make sure the temperature is set correctly. He's waiting for Lydia to say something, but she's being quiet. After setting the little chicken timer for an hour and fifteen minutes he places it on top of the stove before turning around and looking at Lydia.

 

Lydia just continues to stand there, thoughtfully looking back at him. “That is an amazingly mature response, Stiles,” she admits.

 

Stiles just shrugs, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Well, yeah, I've been known to have my moments,” he agrees, rocking back on his heels.

 

A noise from the front of the house breaks their little moment. Allison and Scott walk in with the bread for their meal. Both are bundled up, noses and cheeks flushed bright red from the cold.

 

“What's going on?” Scott asks breathlessly as he sets his package down on the counter.

 

Lydia smirks, “Stiles is going on a date with Peter to see ‘The Two Towers’.”

 

Allison and Scott turn to him in surprise.

 

Stiles throws up his arms in defeat and walks out of the room.

 

************

 

“Hey, guys, Annie’s back and is asking about the Christmas lights,” Allison calls out into the house.

 

Everyone leaves their rooms and joins Allison at the front door. Annie of the stolen pumpkins from next door is back and looking pissed. The four roommates troop out into the snow to join Annie on the sidewalk, turning in unison to look at where the irate girl is scowling towards. Upstairs hanging in the third-floor window are a strand of white icicle lights.

 

“Yeah, can’t help you there Annie,” Stiles says flatly shivering in the cold.

 

Scott just raises both hands to his mouth, eyebrows headed up towards his hairline.

 

Lydia shakes her head and Allison just sighs.

 

“It’s the guys upstairs again,” Allison explains with a half-hearted shrug. “We have nothing to do with it. In fact, that’s their door over there,” she gestures to the left.

 

“Do you know when they’ll be back,” Annie asks pissily. “I already knocked and rang their doorbell, but nobody answered.”

 

“Sorry, not a clue,” Allison says shaking her head. “They’re kind of hard to get a hold of and their schedules are pretty erratic,” she continues frankly.

 

Stiles just shrugs his shoulders before grasping Scott’s arm and tugging it. “Sorry Annie,” he calls out. “We can ask them about it if we run into them,” he adds as he drags Scott back towards the open front door.

 

Lydia just shrugs in disinterest and echoes the suggestion before heading up the steps.

 

Allison gives their neighbor a regretful look and a polite, “Sorry this keeps happening to you,” before heading back inside herself.

 

Once inside all the roommates stand around in the living room looking at one another.

 

“Not it,” Stiles declares.

 

Lydia raises her eyebrows at him. He shrugs back at her, raising his hands in front of him as if to ward her off.

 

************

 

“Hey!” Stiles calls out in greeting as he tucks his wallet into his back pocket. “Let me just grab my coat and hat and I'll be ready to go,” he continues before disappearing into his room for a minute. He steps back out, pulling his coat on and jams a knit beanie on his head. He tosses a grin to Peter, “All ready,” he says cheerfully.

 

Peter just adjusts his coat before offering a smile in return and gesturing Stiles ahead. They are off to catch the midnight premiere of ‘The Two Towers’. Regardless of what everyone in the house believes, it's merely as friends this time and both are feeling relaxed in each others presence, more than they ever have before.

 

Peter drives them downtown to the mall, finding a space in the parking garage. As they head up to the theater they continue their conversation on their theories of how Peter Jackson has interpreted the second film and whether it will be just as good or better than the first one.

 

When the two guys arrive and buy their tickets, Stiles insists on paying since Peter footed the bill for Harry Potter. Peter concedes, but only with the agreement that he gets the drinks and snacks for them.Stiles agrees with a laugh, holding his hands up in defeat. Peter just smirks back bumping his shoulder gently against him.

 

They find a line outside the designated theater and as they make themselves comfortable against the wall for the wait they watch as more and more patrons arrive, many in costumes.

 

It's nice, Stiles thinks, as they stand shoulder to shoulder occasionally turning their body into the other's to quietly joke about a new costume that appears in line. So far, the tall blonde and her companion dressed as elves with green capes and prosthetic ears are winning. They have busted open the bag of Sour Patch Kids and have been swapping Starburst back and forth depending on what color they pull out. Peter favors the pinks and reds, of course. Stiles is happy with the yellows and oranges. They agree another candy run is in order after they claim their seats.

 

It's an enjoyable wait and when it's time to go in, they manage to snag prime seats halfway up and in the center of the screen. Peter runs off to grab some more popcorn and candy. Stiles takes the time to look around and see if he can spot anyone he knows. It's too dim so he sits back and makes himself comfortable, making sure Peter's coat is obvious to anyone from the aisle who may think it's an available seat.

 

The previews are just beginning to start when Peter returns with their bounty. They take a moment to get settled, opening snack boxes and bags, arranging overlapping coats and jostling for elbow space on the armrests. As the lights lower, Stiles snuggles down more firmly in his seat.

 

************

 

The night is a success. Much better than their first attempt at a movie. At one point when Legolas slides down the wall, the whole theater erupts into loud cheers, both Peter and Stiles happily joining in. As the lights turn back on and the theater starts to empty, Peter and Stiles remain behind analyzing the movie. Eventually, they realize it's just the two of them and a lone usher sweeping up spilled popcorn.

 

Laughing in mild embarrassment Stiles slips on his coat, picking up his trash and prods Peter to get him to move. Not missing a beat Peter keeps talking all the way out of the theater and over to the escalators. The mall is empty except for a few lingering patrons and employees.

 

They stroll side-by-side down the carpeted hall towards the garage entrance.

 

Stiles catches himself smiling during a comfortable lull in the conversation realizing just how much he is enjoying this side of Peter.

 

“See,” Peter says with a nudge of his arm into Stiles, “you had a good time.”

 

“I did,” admits Stiles nudging him back. “I never said I wasn't having one, though,” he teases with a little grin.

 

Peter just hums and looks at him from the side, a small smile on his face as they continue to the car.

 

************

 

“So are you going home for the break?” Peter asks suddenly as he pulls away from the intersection.

 

“I am,” says Stiles as he absently rubs his right thigh. Allison and I have decided to drive back together. We’re going to be leaving the day after tomorrow. “What about you? Headed back home to California?”

 

“Yeah, I actually fly out tomorrow afternoon,” he replies. “Will you be gone the entire break or will you come back early?”

 

Stiles pauses to think. “I believe we’ll be gone for almost the entire break. I'm driving Allison down and her parents are meeting us near where I live to pick her up. Then I'll probably go get her and we’ll drive back the weekend before classes start,” he concludes.

 

“Wow, that's quite a trip,” Peter says. “How far is it from here?”

 

“Hmm...about 1,500 miles,” Stiles grins at him. “I like road trips, so I think it'll be fun. Plus, I'm going with Ally so I'll be able to stay awake. We've decided to drive right thru.”

 

“Holy shit, Stiles!” Peter goggles at him.

 

Stiles throws his head back and laughs at Peter's reaction.

 

“It's okay, country boy here, remember. I'm used to driving long distances everywhere,” he chuckles.

 

“Well, I don't know,” Peter replies with doubt. “That seems a bit far, even with two of you. Just be careful,” he cautions with worry.

 

“No worries,” Stiles tosses back with a grin as they pull up into Peter's unofficial parking spot at the house. They walk around to the front and up the steps to stop between the doors to face each other.

 

“So, hey, I had a great time tonight,” Stiles says with a smile, sticking his hands further into his coat pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Thanks for inviting me,” he continues hunching a little further into his coat against the biting winter cold.

 

Peter gives him a small smile, “Thanks for still coming out with me,” he returns. “I didn't think you'd want to.”

 

Stiles gives a small huff of laughter. “Well,” he admits, “I did go back and forth, but you asked before the date and you're right in that no one else knows the story like us, so it'd be kind of stupid to pass up a chance to watch the movie with a fellow fan just because we had a disagreement.”

 

Peter gives a soft murmur of agreement.

 

“Anyway,” Stiles gives a sniff of his running nose, “we should probably go inside,” he gestures behind him to his door. “It's cold and late,” he continues with a shudder.“Umm, would you like to come in for a drink?” he asks a little awkwardly.

 

Peter hesitates, an odd look flitting across his face there and gone too quickly for Stiles to figure out what it means. “Sure,” he agrees. “I'm not in a hurry to go upstairs.”

 

Later, when he walks Peter to the door and they wish each other a merry Christmas and safe travels, Stiles admits he's a little disappointed he didn't ask him to stay.

 

************

 

A muffled beep sounds from his pocket as he walks out of the local police station. He pauses to dig out his phone from his front pocket, struggling a bit with the fit of his jeans. Stiles has just had dinner with his dad and visited some of the deputies one last time before he heads back north in two days.

 

“Huh,” Stiles muses seeing multiple missed calls and the voicemail icon on his phone screen. “Freaking spotty cellphone service,” he mutters under his breath as he hurries to his jeep and calls his voicemail.

 

Hopping into the jeep, he starts it, directing the vents away from him as he blasts the air and waits for the voicemail to connect. It's cold so he hits the speaker button on his phone so he can set it down in his lap. Phone free, Stiles briskly rubs his hands together and blows on them as the first message comes through.

 

There's silence and then music blares through the speaker startling him, causing him to smack himself in the face with his hands. “Ow,” he grumbles as he rubs his chilled nose.

 

He leans closer to the phone, confused as to what's happening. Did Peter butt dial him? There's muffled shouting in the background before the call cuts out. Stiles looks down at his phone, blinking in confusion, unsure of what to think.

 

The voicemail proceeds to the second message. The music is back and then a very loud and inebriated, _‘Happy New Years, Stiles!’_ choruses through. Loud cheering erupts and he can pick out Chris, Derek, Isaac, and Danny. Wait is that Boyd? Peter's voice comes across, _“Hey Stiles, hope you had and very merry Christmas and that your New Year’s is great. Safe travels back and um, we’ll see you soon.”_ More cheering erupts and call outs of ‘Happy New Year’s, Stiles!’ before the call ends.

 

Stiles sits there staring down at his phone grinning. There's a warm feeling in his chest and yeah, he's feeling a little special. It was a sweet gesture and he's feeling a little like an asshole for not thinking of doing this himself. He's selecting Peter's number to call him back before his brain catches up to what his hand is already doing. Stiles pauses, finger hovering over the send button before making up his mind and pushing it. He's feeling a little giddy and a little nervous as he listens to the phone ring.

 

It's hit the fifth ring and Stiles feels his mood start to flag a little when no one answers. He's contemplating whether he should hang up or wait for voicemail to pick up when there's a click and a muffled, “Hello,” calls out.

 

“Peter,” Stiles asks hesitantly, wondering if maybe he dialed the wrong number when he doesn't recognize the other voice.

 

“Hello? Hello?”

 

“Peter? It's me, Stiles. I got your—”

 

“Oh wait, Stiles, hold on let me get Peter!” the voice on the other end shouts. “Don't hang up, he'll be so pissed if he misses your call. The asshole’s been moping since he got back and he realized you weren't here yet,” the mysterious voice continues before there's a thud and muffled cursing.

 

Stiles furrows his brows in confusion and he pulls the phone away to look at the screen.

 

“Hello?” the voice says again. “Stiles, you still there? Hello?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I'm still here,” he says with an amused huff.

 

“Okay Peter's on his way, so just stay on the phone,” the guy urges.

 

“Alright, I can do that,” Stiles agrees crossing his arms as he waits, smiling to himself in amusement.

 

He can hear a voice start to get louder and it's Peter asking the guy what he wants and why does he have his cell phone. A _‘What do you mean it's Stiles?’_ comes across and a ‘ _You idiot it's a cell phone, you could have just brought it to me asshole,’_ before Peter's voice comes through loud and clear. “Hello? Stiles?”

 

Stiles is laughing full out now from the overheard conversation.

 

“Hello? Stiles?”

 

“Hey, yeah, sorry it's me,” he gasps back, another chuckle slipping past his lips. “I was just calling you back since you, um, left me that voicemail. It was, uh, it was really nice so I just wanted to call you and say thanks and happy New Year’s too,” he rushes out. He facepalms and there's silence on the other end of the line.

 

Stiles clears his throat awkwardly, getting ready to say goodbye when Peter finally speaks.

 

“Oh yeah, um, I just, I mean we just thought that it was only right to call you and wish you a happy New Year’s,” he says clearing his voice. “You know since it's a party night and you're missing out on it,” he teases lightly.

 

Stiles can only laugh. “Oh, well, um thanks, for thinking of me. You're too kind,” he snarks back.

 

“Of course, Stiles, always thinking of what's best for you,” Peter replies smoothly.

 

Stiles chokes a bit at this pronouncement. “Ah, can you tell the guys I said happy new years back?” he asks, fumbling to turn down the heater now that the cab is finally warming up.

 

“Sure, sure,” Peter replies and there's loud noises and shouts in the background.

 

“Umm, well,” Stiles starts awkwardly, “It sounds like you're kind of busy, so I'll just let you go,” he continues, rubbing his head, shoulders starting to slump a little in dejection.

 

“Oh, oh yeah, okay,” Peter agrees.

 

“Well, umm—”

 

“So, yeah—”

 

They both stop with a laugh. “Go ahead, you first,” Stiles insists.

 

“Right,” Peter coughs. “Umm, did you have a good Christmas?” he blurts out.

 

“Ah, wait, what?” Stiles stumbles over his words, not expecting the question.

 

“Yeah, yeah I did, thanks,” he says when Peter repeats the question. And maybe Stiles rambles for a minute or five or ten about how his break is going, before he catches himself and asks the same question back of Peter a little breathlessly.

 

And Peter responds in kind, telling his crush all about California and how Thalia nearly burnt the Christmas goose and ruined dinner or how Chris came over and tripped over an extension cord and ripped half of the Christmas lights down.

 

There's a tapping against Stiles window that startles him and when he looks over he sees his father standing there looking back at him with a raised brow. Stiles rolls down the window and sheepishly motions with the phone against his ear, “Hey dad, just got caught up in a call.”

 

“Must be some call,” the sheriff muses, “for you to get caught up in for the past thirty minutes.”

 

Stiles blinks at him and looks at the clock on his dash. He pulls his phone away to check the counting call log. The numbers are ticking upwards towards forty.

 

“Ah. Yeah,” he says. “I'm just going to go home now,” he finishes lamely. “After saying goodbye and hanging up because talking on the phone and driving is a big no-no,” he hastily adds.

 

The sheriff just shakes his head in exasperation. “Goodbye, Stiles, I'll see you later in the morning,” he reaches in and ruffles his son’s head in affection. “We can have breakfast together,” he adds before walking back towards the front door.

 

Stiles quickly rolls up the window because _hello cold!_ “So, hey, I've gotta go,” he tells Peter regretfully. “But, um, I'll see you soon though, Ally and I drive back in 2 days,” he adds hopefully.

 

“Yeah, that's sounds good,” Peter replies. “Happy new year, Stiles and safe travels,” he says softly. “See you soon.”

 

“Thanks, and happy New Years Peter, see you soon,” he says a little breathless. “Have a good night, bye.”

 

“Bye, Stiles.”

 

Peter hangs up and Stiles hits the end call button. His hands are shaking a little and he's definitely feeling a little jittery, especially in the stomach area. He's almost 100% positive he's developed a full blown crush on Peter Hale. Fuck.

 

************

 

“That is one fucking dead tree,” Stiles declares when he and Allison walk into their living room.

 

“Oh wow,” Allison says, “I forgot all about the tree. Shit, what do we do?”

 

They stop in front of said dead tree and stare at it. What was once a lush fat 7-foot tall pine tree two weeks ago now stands a depressing dead fire hazard. Stiles pokes at a pile of brown needles littering the ground beneath the tree boughs with the toe of his Sketchers.

 

“This is probably not safe to keep in here,” he says. “We’re probably very lucky this hasn't gone up in flames in a freak fire while we were gone,” he adds musingly.

 

Allison runs her hands through her hair and looks at Stiles. He looks between her and the tree. In unison they sigh, “Upstairs.”

 

************

 

There is a fire burning in a barrel, where did they get a barrel? in their back driveway. Chris is breaking off branches between sips of beer and Peter, Peter is wearing Stiles’ leopard print towel Lydia bought him as a joke for his birthday last year and his favorite dark green Fair Isle toboggan hat. Stiles is 75% sure that Peter just may be naked under that towel. He chokes a little on his spit when Peter flashes a good portion of well toned muscled upper thigh.

 

“I'm going to um— going on go inside and uh, get a drink,” Stiles manages to strangle out as he flails towards the back door, stumbling over the door jamb as he staggers inside.

 

Lydia and Allison fist bump and exchange smirks before turning back around to watch their idiot upstairs neighbors dance in the snow around the burn barrel.

 

************

 

“Fire department’s s back again,” Allison announces loudly. She throws open the back door to find the irate fire captain standing on the back porch. The burn barrel is overturned and the smouldering remains are scattered across the driveway behind Stiles’ jeep. She coughs abruptly in an attempt to smother a laugh that tries to escape.

 

The fire captain is obviously pissed that he's back to put out a fire that's _somehow managed to reignite itself during one of the worst snowstorms in recent history._ He stomps away back to his truck after his lecture on _the illegality of burning trash within city limits and how he better not have to return a 3rd time tonight!_ Allison gives one last wistful look at the other hunky firemen before closing the back door.

 

************

 

Peter opens the door to find a scowling Stiles holding a shovel in his hand. He thrusts it at Peter’s chest with a flat, “Clean it up.” Peter stares bewilderingly at the back of Stiles’ retreating back.

 

************

 

“So have you guys noticed how quiet it's been lately?” Scott asks his roommates offhandedly one day.

 

“Yeah, what's up with that? We haven't heard Peter blaring his car radio or blasting Danny’s subwoofer lately,” Lydia says curiously. “Are you two fighting?”

 

Stiles looks back at his roommates and shrugs. “Dunno what's going on,” he admits. “I haven't really seen Peter since the Christmas tree/fire department incident. He just smiles and says hi if we happen to cross paths, but that's only been like three times. We, ah, haven't actually talked,” he adds a little glumly.

 

“Oh,” Lydia says softly, “Sorry.” There's a look of pity on his roommates’ faces and it's making Stiles really uncomfortable. He's having a difficult time holding their gazes.

 

Stiles just shrugs and gives them a small smile before looking down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs and sighing softly.

 

************

  
Stiles stands there alone in the living room and scratches his head before letting his arm drop. It's quiet. _Too_ quiet. He looks around and realizes he feels a little lost.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is pretty much all fluff.
> 
> **I may or may not add the out-takes (extra scenes that didn't progress the main story line and were therefore removed.)

* * *

 

Stiles runs his hands through his hair, clenching two fistfuls in frustration. His distrust in his classmates' ability to write an A+ paper for their group assignment has landed him in this predicament at 1 a.m. the night before it's due, attempting to write a conclusion with an over-stressed brain and tension-riddled body.

 

The paper is worth forty percent of their grade and if he doesn't nail this heads will roll. Namely his head he admits ruefully to himself. He's already tried to get Allison, Lydia and Scott’s help, but none of them know anything about the topic. Scott’s suggestion of asking one of the upstairs guys is looking more and more appealing to his exhausted strained eyes as he loses focus once again on his computer screen.

 

Stiles picks up his phone and looks at it before he drops it back down onto his desk. This pattern repeats itself several more times before he admits defeat to himself, slumping back into his desk chair. He picks up the phone one last time and finds Peter's contact. His finger hovers over the send button before he finally blows out a large breath and jabs it. The phone rings and when no one answers after several seconds he loses his courage and hits the end button, quickly feeling both a little relieved and a little disappointed.

 

He places his hands back on his keyboard and gets ready to type something when the sudden ringing of his phone causes him to do an accidental keyboard smash and squawk in surprise.

 

Stiles stares at his phone a moment before hesitantly picking it up. It's Peter calling back and Stiles swallows nervously before accepting the call.

 

“Hello,” he says cautiously, not noticing how he has a white-knuckled grip on his phone.

 

“Stiles, you called?” Peter's voice floats over the speaker. “Sorry I missed your call, my phone was in my bedroom. Is everything okay?” he asks with concern.

 

“Umm, yeah, sorry. I was just having a little writer's block on a major paper due tomorrow and was wondering if you could offer some suggestions, but it's okay. It's late and I wasn't thinking,” he rushes to add.

 

“You...wanted my advice on your paper due tomorrow?” Peter asks cautiously.

 

Stiles feels his face heat up and he mumbles out a few words in response. When he's only met with silence from the other end, Stiles clears his voice and tries again.

 

“I, ah, figured you would probably be good at summarizing things up. From all of our conversations and arguments you do a pretty good job of talking circles around me,” he stammers out. Stiles makes a face and mouths _talking circles around me_ before face palming.

 

There's silence on the other end for a moment before Peter lets out a hesitant, “Thanks” in return.

 

“Anyways, you know what, I've got it,” Stiles hastily says before rushing out a quick garbled embarrassed goodbye and hanging up.

 

He sits there and stares at his phone in horror wondering if that really just happened. The sudden sound of pounding feet on the side staircase has him cringing and thinking yup it _sure_ did and dropping his phone like it's burning him.

 

A pounding on the front door rattles the knick knacks on his shelf and he hears Allison answer the door. Voices are getting louder and yup that's Peter.

 

His door creaks open and when he turns around there's Peter, Allison, Scott and Lydia? standing in his doorway. Stiles just blinks at them, unsure of what to say.

 

“Hey, so I came to help. You kind of hung up before I could ask what you needed me to look at,” Peter explains, hunching his shoulders a little when Stiles continues to just look at him.

 

“Ah, yeah, um I have this paper here that's a group project worth 40% that's due tomorrow. I just need my conclusion and someone to kind of proof read it please,” he says, opting to ignore explaining why he hung up so suddenly and hoping Peter does the same.

 

“Okay, sure, I can do that,” Peter agrees. “Here, just let me read what you have.”

 

As they switch places Stiles looks up and realizes his roommates are still standing there: one smug, the other cocky and the last one smirking. He discretely motions for them to leave and when Peter turns around suddenly to ask him a question Stiles starts rubbing his elbow.

 

The three roommates leave him, Scott mouthing, “ _good luck,”_ with a thumbs up as he walks out and quietly closes the door.

 

Peter is intently reading the paper from the beginning. Not knowing what else to do, Stiles goes and sits on the corner of his bed. Eventually, Peter gets to a point when he cocks his head and squints at the screen before murmuring something to himself and begins typing away. After more quiet mumbling under his breath and a few backspaces every so often before resuming, he stops and goes back to read what he has written. He asks a few questions of Stiles and after listening to what he says he resumes his work.

 

“Alright,” he says turning around to look at Stiles. “Check this out and tell me if this works.” He gets up from the chair and steps aside for Stiles to sit.

 

After reading what is written and seeing the corrections Peter has suggested, Stiles is suitably impressed. Apparently, Peter really can bullshit with the best of them.

 

“It's great, thanks,” he says as he's turning his chair around. “It's exactly what was needed.”

 

He finds Peter relaxed on his bed, reading Stiles’ copy of The Lord of the Rings. Stiles looks back at the clock in the corner of his computer and realizes it's headed towards 2:30 a.m.

 

After saving the paper in triplicate he hits print and waits for the report to spew out. He's feeling a little apprehensive now that the paper is done and Peter has made himself comfortable on his bed. They haven't really talked since the burn barrel incident and he's unsure of what to say.

 

When he turns back around, Peter is now lying with one arm behind his head and with the book propped on his stomach. His shoes are now off and his ankles are crossed. Stiles blinks in bemusement trying to remember when Peter may have taken his shoes off.

 

“All finished,” Peter asks with a raised brow as he pauses in his reading.

 

“Uh, yeah, all done,” Stiles says as he shuffles the papers into a folder and stuffs everything into his backpack.

 

“Good,” Peter says before returning to the page in front of him.

 

Stiles sits there awkwardly, unsure of what happens next. He decides to go get a drink and maybe swing by the bathroom to brush his teeth too. You know good dental hygiene he thinks to himself sarcastically.  

 

“I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?” he asks to be polite.

 

“Sure,” Peter says absent-mindedly as he turns the page, “I wouldn't mind a glass of iced water.”

 

“Okay I can do that, be right back,” Stiles says eagerly.

 

Five minutes later he's in the bathroom after dropping off Peter’s drink, staring wide-eyed at himself as he aggressively brushes his teeth. Scott’s sitting on the toilet behind him smirking in delight after spotting Peter comfortable on Stiles bed.

 

“Not a word,” Stiles mumbles around a mouthful of Crest and his toothbrush.

 

He watches in the mirror as Scott raises his hands in defense and laughs.

 

************

 

Stiles cautiously rolls over onto his back. _Peter's in his bed._ He's still a little fuzzy on the details, to be honest. Peter had mentioned how late it was and how cold it was outside and how warm Stiles’ room was and Stiles had smoothly suggested that Peter just sleeps here for the night. _And Peter is in his bed._ Apparently already asleep too by the sounds of his breathing. Stiles may have a little minor mental freak out lying next to him.

 

************

 

Stiles slowly rouses from a deep sleep feeling cozy. It's still really dark outside, the room almost pitch-black. He's unsure what has woken him until he remembers he's sharing a bed with Peter and apparently they're cuddling and wow their faces are sure to close he thinks muzzily. There's a brush against his nose _Peter's nose_ and then a soft press of lips against his. Without thought Stiles turns into the kiss, returning it with a dreamy sigh. There's an arm around his waist pulling him onto his side and he just follows the motion, slotting his body against Peter like it belongs there.

 

It's gentle kisses and closely pressed bodies until his alarm sounds. Pulling away slowly, he reaches over to turn it off before returning back to Peter's arms. Peter pulls the covers up around their bodies, pressing against Stiles before reaching up and guiding Stiles mouth back to his. Stiles melts into him.

 

************

 

It's been two weeks and Peter has returned every night. He’ll go to his own apartment to shower and change, but then he's back in Stiles bed. They haven't progressed past make out sessions with heavy petting and some frottage, but it's okay. There's no feeling of pressure, no rush to have sex. Yes, Stiles has thought about it. A lot if he's being honest, but this is nice, really nice actually. And he can't believe what an idiot he's been for holding out for so long.

 

His roommates tease him mercilessly and he admits he deserves it. Nine times out of ten he has a goofy smile on his face and if they aren't texting one another throughout the day they are speaking over the phone. If it's neither of those two things, they're probably together in Stiles’ room.

 

There's a constant giddy feeling in his body, like a flock of butterflies have taken up permanent residence. _And smiling._ Jesus, he can't stop smiling.

 

It finally comes to a head one afternoon in the kitchen while Peter is still at class. The four roommates are hanging out eating a snack when Allison starts teasing Stiles about being in love. He starts to deny it before he stops to think.

 

“I—I, yeah, I think I am,” he stammers in surprise, raising his hands up to his cheeks and realizing he's grinning like crazy.

 

“Aww, look at that. Here you were spending so much time running away from Peter and now you're admitting he's the one,” Lydia says with a laugh.

 

Stiles laughs at this. “I think one of the reasons why I avoided him is because he was everything I didn't want in someone,” Stiles admits. “I knew that he didn't fit my ideal and I knew that if I gave him a real chance I was screwed because I would probably fall for him.” He rubs his head sheepishly at this confession.

 

“So what made you change your mind?” Allison questions him with seriousness.

 

Stiles pauses to gather his thoughts before replying, taking the time to think back as to at what point his feelings towards Peter begin to change course. “I think it began the night of the Halloween party when Melissa was in town,” he says slowly. “That night we were all upstairs and we all fell asleep. I woke up to see him tucking in his two best friends. Then later, it was our trip to see The Two Towers. It was so fun and easy, he was great to talk to. Over New Year’s he left me a sweet, albeit not entirely sober, message,” Stiles says with a chuckle when he recalls the message.

He pauses a moment to take a bite of food before continuing. “Did you know, the reason why Peter's been missing in action since the tree burning was because he had decided over break it was time to get serious and buckle down because he’s graduating in May? He says he's had all his college fun and now it's time to be an adult. He stopped smoking weed even though the guys liked to sit around and blow it in his face betting him that he couldn't last a month.” Stiles can only shake his head at this.

 

“He says he gave up on me because he thought he really didn't have a chance and then he couldn't believe when I called him that night about the paper. He said he wasn't going to let the opportunity pass by.” Stiles smiles softly in remembrance of when Peter had admitted this.

 

“See, now I don't feel bad for going behind your back every time you flipped out on Peter,” Scott announces cheerfully, clapping Stiles on his shoulder.

 

“I'm sorry, what? “ Stiles asks blankly.

 

“Oh, you did that too?” Lydia pipes up.

 

Allison shakes her head in agreement as she finishes chewing her food. “Yeah, I did it that night Parrish was over and Peter became so jealous he said he wanted to ‘Punch that guy in his face!’” she says with a laugh. “I convinced him that it was probably a bad idea and you wouldn't be happy. Then when he was saying he should just give up, between bouts of puking in a bucket upstairs, I rubbed his back and said to keep at it and don't quit. That you'd come around eventually.”

 

Stiles can only gape at his three roommates as they fist-bump one another.

 

“I don't know if I should slug you or hug you guys,” he confesses.

 

“Hugs please,” they chorus together at him.

 

************

 

“So...sexy times?” Stiles prompts with a hopeful look on his face.

 

“I don't know Stiles, do you think you deserve sexy times?” mocks Peter. “The last time I tried to give you some you gave me a bloody nose,” he says crossing his arms and raising his brow.

 

Stiles sputters indignantly. “That was an accident,” he stresses. “It's not like I meant to headbutt you,” he grimaces, a little red starting to creep up his neck at the memory of going in for a kiss and instead, slamming his forehead into Peter’s face.

 

“Yes, well while I like my dates to be enthusiastic in kissing me, maybe not Stiles level enthusiastic,” Peter comments wryly.

 

Stiles stares at him and Peter cocks his eyebrow in return.

 

Stiles tackles him to the bed and laughingly gets his kiss.

 

“Asshole,” he murmurs affectionately against Peter's lips.

 

************

 

Peter lets out an irritated huff. His back is facing Stiles in bed. “For the record,” the older guy states, “I want it to be known that I'm the bigger man here,” he declares as he rolls over to face his boyfriend.

 

“Oh yeah, and why is that?” Stiles asks with a snort.

 

Peter just looks at him for a moment before reaching out and running his fingers lightly along Stiles' face. “I love you,” he says softly.

 

Stiles looks back solemnly before grinning wildly, “I know, took you long enough to admit it,” he says smugly.

 

Peter looks at him and blinks in disbelief. “You little shit, did you wait until I said it first?”

 

“Yup,” Stiles declares with a loud pop of the p. He scoots closer to Peter until their noses touch. “I love you too,” he says softly giving him a gentle Eskimo kiss before slotting their mouths together.

 

When Stiles pulls back, Peter's gazing back at him with a fond look of exasperation. “How long?” he demands in curiosity.

 

Stiles gives a small shrug, “About two weeks,” he admits truthfully. “You?”

 

Peter gives him a small smile, “A little bit longer than that.”

 

Stiles hums in contentment and snuggles down further into the bedding.

 

“By the way,” Peter states with a raised eyebrow as Stiles looks at him in expectation, “I win.”

 

Stiles huffs out a small laugh and rolls his eyes.

 

************

 

“So, Stiles,” Allison starts, “Lydia, Scott and I were thinking maybe we should head over to New York City the weekend of your birthday. I get my discount through the Westin and for us to be there three days it's come out to $25 per person.”

 

Stiles thinks about all that he has (or actually hasn't) got planned for that time and thinks it's a pretty good idea.

 

“Sure, I don't see why not,” he agrees with a shrug. “I've got no plans and I've always wanted to go. Maybe check out the Statue of Liberty and Centrally Park,” he muses aloud.

 

“Excellent,” Allison says, clapping her hands. “I’ll go ahead and make the reservations. Why don't we get together one night and plan out what exactly we want to do,” she suggests as she walks backward to her room.

 

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” Stiles agrees. “I'll talk to Scott. You got Lydia?”

 

“Sure,” a muffled response floats from Allison's room.

 

Later, after Peter has returned from classes and they’re hanging out on his bed, Peter asks about his birthday plans and what he wants to do.

 

“Well, we’re all planning on going to New York City together that weekend,” Stiles explains. “As for my gift, I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it too much,” he admits. “I guess whatever you want to get me will work,” he suggests with a shrug. “I’m sure I’ll like whatever you give me.”

 

Peter just gives him a flat look. “Yeah, I’m not falling for that. What about a stuffed animal,” he suggests mockingly. “I know you always wanted a cat, but with Scott’s allergies, it’s not possible.”

 

Stiles ponders the thought over. “Sure,” he agrees. “You can get me a stuffed cat. Just make sure it’s extra cuddly so I can snuggle with it when I kick you out of my bed for giving me a stuffed cat for my birthday,” he says jokingly.

 

Peter laughs at him. “Okay, a stuffed cat, extra cuddly it is. What color did you want,” he prods. “How about one of those, what are they called, the ones with all different patches on them? Like orange and white and black,” he continues.

 

“A calico,” Stiles answers, eyeing his boyfriend suspiciously. “That was oddly specific to ask,” he says.

 

“What? No, that’s not odd. I was just thinking that I like cats that look like that,” Peter defends, trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

 

“Uh huh,” Stiles returns. “You like how they look. Didn’t you say you weren’t a fan of cats?” He looks at his boyfriend who is suddenly intensely focused on his phone in his hands. “Peter, did you get me a cat for my birthday?” Stiles blurts out.

 

“What? No, absolutely not!” Peter denies emphatically.

 

“Holy shit, you got me a cat,” Stiles laughs. “You did, you did, you did!”

 

“No, Stiles,” Peter says with a nervous laugh, “I did not get you a cat for your birthday. Do you see one around here? Besides, who gets their new boyfriend a cat immediately after they start dating?” he asks judgingly.

 

“You do,” Stiles says excitedly. “You would, you’re crazy enough to do it,” he adds. “And it’s not my birthday yet, so that’s why it’s not here right now,” he continues.

 

“Sorry sweetheart, I hate to burst your bubble, but I didn’t get you a cat for your birthday,” Peter says apologetically.

 

Stiles deflates a little before noticing the small grin starting to appear on Peter’s face before he has his head completely turned away from him.

 

“Oh yeah, so what did you get me then?” he demands.

 

Peter looks back at him, rolling his eyes. “A lunchbox,” he says flatly. “I got you a lunchbox.”

 

“So- you got me a calico colored ‘lunchbox’?” Stiles hints slyly.

 

************

 

“Dude, you pulled up at school with the kitten attached to your chest! How can you deny you like cats?” he demands incredulously, arms flailing in emphasis at said kitten.

 

“Just because I don't like cats, doesn't mean I'm cruel, Stiles. She's still a baby, I can't just leave her here by herself,” Peter says in offense. “Yes, I know sweetheart, your daddy is such a heathen,” he croons to the tiny kitten snuggled in his arm as he rubs her gently behind her ear.

 

Stiles looks at his boyfriend and just pinches his nose. He's pretty sure he's being passed over for a one pound ball of fur.

 

Peter continues to croon under his breath, body starting to do the dip and sway perfected the world over by parents soothing their offspring. A tiny rumble starts up from the crook of his arm. He starts swaying his way to Stiles’ bedroom and towards the bed.

 

“We are taking a nap,” Peter says looking back over his right shoulder at Stiles. “You may join us if you wish,” he continues with a sniff. He climbs into the bed and under the covers, tucking _Stiles’_ kitten into the crook of his left arm before closing his eyes. The tiny kitten just snuggles closer in his hold.

 

When Stiles doesn't join him immediately, Peter cracks open an eye. “Well are you taking a nap too?” he demands.

 

“Oh my God, yes! I'll take a damn nap with you and _my_ kitten!” Stiles cries out in exasperation, tossing his hands above his head at the ridiculousness and okay adorableness but mainly still ridiculousness of this entire moment.

 

Stiles walks in and quietly closes the door behind him. Peter pulls the covers back and holds them up so Stiles can slide under. As he gets comfortable against Peter's side, he persists, “You know that's my cat right?”

 

“Shh,” Peter grumbles, “Some of us are trying to take a nap.”

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles whisper-shouts, “You're a crazy cat nap sleep thief! And you totally love my cat,” he insists.

 

Peter snorts, “Lunchbox is my napping buddy and when it's nap time she's mine. She’s yours the rest of the time. That doesn't mean I like her.”

 

Stiles sputters at his boyfriend’s profile in astonishment. “Her name is Tolkien,” he corrects him.

 

Peter cracks his eye open again. “Tolkien ‘The Lunchbox’ Stilinski-Hale,” he corrects Stiles with smugly before closing his eye, snuggling further down in the bed and adding, “I win.”

 

Stiles just gapes at Peter as Peter’s breath quickly evens out. “That doesn't even make sense,” he hisses at his sleeping kitten thief.”And you don't even like cats,” he scoffs under his breath. “Yeah right.”

 

************

 

Winter rolls into spring and everything is going really well. Tolkien aka ‘The Lunchbox’ has turned their happy little home of five into a place of six. Even though Scott’s allergic to the dander, more often than not he’s in Stiles room playing with the kitten. They’ve discovered she has a fondness of fetch when you toss one of her little toy mice from the local pet store. It’s a never ending source of entertainment for everyone. Allison is talking about picking up a laser pointer one day after work for them to try out next.

 

When Peter gets home he steals the kitten away for nap time. Scott pouts and everyone laughs and Tolkien settles down in her familiar place on Peter’s chest. The two of them are usually knocked out in less than five minutes.

 

It’s during one of these nap-isodes (as Peter so fondly calls them) when Stiles answers the door to find Parrish standing there. Stiles is a little surprised as the man has virtually disappeared from their lives since before the holidays. Allison has mentioned him once or twice in passing when talking about work, but otherwise, that’s it.

 

“Parrish, hi,” Stiles says. “Are you here for Allison? She’s not in at the moment, I think she’s over at the gym on the culinary campus if you want to try and catch her,” he suggests helpfully.

 

“Oh ah, yeah, thanks,” Parrish says staring into his eyes.

 

Stiles feels a little awkward standing there, but that’s typical for his interactions with anyone he thinks. He takes the time to look at the other man, trying to remain at least a little discreet as he checks him out. Parrish still looks the same for the most part, maybe a little paler and with some dark smudges under his eyes. And yeah, standing there looking at him, Stiles still gets a little tingle, but he doesn’t feel anything beyond that little initial attraction. He’s not feeling that same warmth in his chest when he thinks of Peter, or the same giddiness he gets when he’s talking to him either on the phone or in person. Instead, all Stiles feels, is normal. Huh, he thinks to himself, it looks like I've   finally solved my Parrish attraction.

 

Parrish gives a little cough and clears his throat. “So, Allison says you’re seeing that guy from upstairs now.”

 

Stiles smiles a little ruefully. “Yeah,” he admits, “it took me a little while to get there, but it happened. Peter is my boyfriend and we’re pretty happy.” He sticks his hands in his front pockets and looks back at Parrish. “We even have a cat together,” he adds with a laugh.

 

“What about you?” he asks hesitantly. “Are you still with your girlfriend?”

 

Parrish swallows before looking away and looking back. He gives Stiles a small smile before confirming that they’re still together.

 

“Well man, that’s great,” Stiles says. “I’m glad you guys worked it out. I hope things continue to go well for the two of you,” he says warmly.

 

“Thanks,” Parrish says. “I hope you and what’s-his-name,” Parrish winces at this, “I mean your boyfriend—”

 

“Peter,” Stiles corrects him mildly.

 

“Yeah, Peter, I hope the two of you work out,” he finishes. “I hope you’re happy, Stiles.”

 

Parrish has an odd look on his face and Stiles can’t quite place what it means, but he knows that it’s not vital to him so Stiles lets it go. Instead, he gives Parrish a gentle smile and an acknowledging nod of his head. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around, maybe.” Stiles holds out his hand to give him a goodbye shake. As he watches Parrish walk away he realizes it feels a little final, their parting. Stepping back inside he closes the door and walks back to Peter and Tolkien, thinking he’s made the best choice. When Peter gazes at him from his bed, Tolkien cracking an eye open to take a peek he knows he has. And there are no regrets.

 

************

 

“So have you guys talked about what’s going to happen when Peter graduates next month?” Lydia asks Stiles one evening. Peter is at work as well as Scott and Allison so it’s just Lydia and Stiles for the evening.

 

Stiles gives a shrug. “Well he’s going backpacking across Europe with Chris as part of his graduation gift from his parents. We plan on meeting up in Prague when I’m over there for my study abroad program. After that he’s going back to Beacon Hills. He already has a job lined up with the guy he works for when he goes home on breaks. As for us, I’m assuming we’ll still be dating. We haven’t really talked about it, but by the way he acts I think we’ll give the long distance relationship a try. I only have a year left and if we’re still together, there’s a strong chance I might head out to California to get my Masters.”

 

Lydia nods her head. “That makes sense. The two of you seem to be really comfortable in your relationship and I think he’s pretty committed to seeing this last,” she agrees.

 

“Well were each other’s first ‘I love yous’,” Stiles says with a delighted grin. “That’s a pretty big indicator I think on how we feel about one another.”

 

Lydia smiles at him. “I’m glad you gave him a chance,” she admits. “The two of you work well. And you’re both really happy all the time. And I mean all the time,” she teases.

 

Stiles blushes. “Yeah, I’m glad I came around too. When I think about what I almost missed. I’m glad he kept at it. And I’m glad you guys had faith in me to eventually get my shit together and kept encouraging him to stick with it,” he says with a laugh.

 

The two roommates laugh at the memories of Peter’s “courtship” of Stiles over the past year. “We’ve come so far,” Lydia muses. “It’s going to be strange when May comes around and everyone upstairs moves away.

 

“No more Scott either,” Stiles says with a hum. “I wonder who we’ll get as new neighbors?”

 

“Well, whoever moves in, they can’t be any crazier than what we’ve been living with,” Lydia declares.

 

Stiles groans. “Great Lyds, you’ve probably jinxed us now,” he laughs. “It’s your turn to date someone living upstairs,” he insists mockingly to the redhead.

 

Lydia just snorts. “Don’t lie, you owe us. For like the rest of your life,” she declares.

 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he says with a fond grin. “I really do.”

 

************

 

“Excuse me,” Peter asks a couple of girls nearby. “Can you take a photo of us?” he says as he gestures between himself and a figure standing behind him.

 

“Oh sure,” the girl replies taking his camera and watching him as he shows her how to use it.

 

He hurries back to his boyfriend, wrapping his arm around him as they lean toward one another and grin at the camera.

 

“Thanks,” Stiles calls out to the blushing girl as Peter goes to retrieve the camera.

 

Stiles turns around and rests against the stone wall looking down at the peaceful Vltava river below. Peter has met up with him in Prague only this morning and they have spent the day roaming around the city before finally ending up on the famous Charles Bridge.

 

“Oaf,” Stiles grunts with a laugh as Peter crowds up behind him, pushing heavily against his body before wrapping his arms snugly around Stiles and resting his chin on his shoulder. Together they watch the colors of the sky change as the sun begins to set.

 

“So what do you want to do the next two days you're here?” Stiles asks, turning around to face Peter.

 

“Whatever you want,” Peter says, reaching up to run his hand affectionately through Stiles hair, cupping the back of his head so he can place a gentle kiss against Stiles’ temple. “Chris will meet up with us for dinner, but other than that we’re game to tag along with your group during the day and whatever else you have planned at night.”

 

Stiles hums in thought. He only gets the three days total before Peter returns to California with Chris in tow. He wants to make the best of it.

 

Peter continues to gaze at him, leaning forward to place a soft kiss against the corner of Stiles mouth, content to just stay the way they are. Stiles turns and captures his lips and they kiss languidly.

 

“Well we can definitely include more of that,” Stiles says breathlessly, nuzzling his nose against Peter's.

 

Peter chuckles, “Definitely more of that,” he agrees resting his forehead against Stiles.

 

Another minute passes before Peter reaches down and laces their fingers together, gently pulling Stiles into a walk. Lightly swinging their arms between them, Stiles leisurely follows along.

 

“So I thought that maybe I would pick you up from Logan when you fly back,” Peter says casually as he kisses the back of Stiles hand, watching him closely.

 

“Hmm...okay that sounds nice,” Stiles agrees. It takes his brain a moment to process what Peter has said. “What? Wait, I thought you were going back to California,” he stammers.

 

Peter gives a small shrug and a smirk. “Change of plans,” he says. “I thought I'd fly back and stay at your place until you return in a week. I've already talked to the girls about it and they're actually picking me up from the airport.”

 

Stiles just blinks at him.

 

“That is, if it's okay with you?” Peter says hesitantly.

 

“I— What, no. I mean yes, that's okay. That is 100% okay,” Stiles says a little breathlessly. “You just took me by surprise is all,” he continues. “What about work though? Is your boss okay with this?”

 

Peter smiles, “I'm good. I won't start work for another three weeks.”

 

“Oh, oh, that long huh,” Stiles says a little hopefully, heart picking up a little in pace.

 

“Yeah,” Peter confirms gazing at him before looking back ahead as they navigate the groups of people. “I thought that maybe I'd stay with you for another two weeks before going home,” he shrugs, glancing back towards Stiles and tightening his grip a little on his hand.

 

Stiles stops walking, pulling Peter back when he unknowingly continues on.

 

Peter turns and looks at him in confusion when Stiles continues to stand there in silence looking at him. “Yes?” he prompts with a raised brow.

 

Stiles just stares at him, a little in wonder. “How long have you been planning this?” he questions.

 

Peter steps closer. “Does it matter?”

 

“No,” Stiles replies even though he sounds a little suspicious as he tries to think back on when Peter could have arranged this surprise.

 

Peter looks at him in amusement. “If you must know, since the day we realized we’d be in Europe at the same time.”

 

“You sneaky bastard,” Stiles breathes. “How long have the girls known?” he demands.

 

Peter chuckles. “Since about as long as we've known we’d be in Europe together,” he admits.

 

Stiles laughs in delight. Peter smirks and gives him a firm peck on his lips. “Come on sweetheart, let's go have dinner. I've always wanted to be wined and dined in a foreign country.” Then the cocky bastard points to himself and smugly states, “I win.”

  
~The End~


End file.
